ATAK
by alleymap
Summary: A new threat rises in Russia, a lethal virus just waiting to be released. Can Bond and the young female agent accompanying him prevent it? And could Alec Trevelyan have cheated death for a second time? Complete.
1. Prologue I

A/N: Rather obviously, I don't own any character that you the reader recognise from the James Bond books/films.  Please don't sue me, I'm a General Tax Dodging Student.  I have no money.

On the other hand I do own: The Kain Family, Caleb Deronda, Lucinda Elliot, Evie, Dan, Gregory Fraser, Richard Brent, Blake, and Vasili Dmitrov.

PROLOGUE PART I

_Thirteen Years Previously:_

The game was over.  Blake – the other agent assigned to this mission – was dead, a bullet taken high in the chest, another in the throat.  He was finished.  They had found the small handgun on his ankle, removed it as they had his other weapons, he was unarmed and unable to do anything.  Strong hands gripped him under the arms and hauled him through the complex, blood trailing after him, flowing from his leg – the bullet had shattered the bone, every movement was agony.  He gritted his teeth and struggled, and the butt of an automatic was hit into the back of his neck.  Stars exploded in front of his eyes – brilliant flashes of pain – and he swayed in and out of consciousness.

Voices were shouting in Russian over his head, but in his pain he couldn't focus on them.  He was taken into a courtyard, the snow flitting around him, the wind biting into his broken body.  He was flung onto the icy flagstones, stifling the scream that rose from his stomach, struggling to get up, to at least try to get onto his feet.  The same strong hands held his shoulders, and another hand grabbed his thick dark hair and pulled his head back, dragging him to his knees.  He looked up at the man that stood over him, expensive wool coat flapping in the wind, staring impassively down at the agent, and then pulled out a gun, and walked around him.

The cold metal barrel was pressed into the back of his head, it was an unmistakable feeling.  He didn't think it would end like this.  He knew it would have to end one day, but had tried never to imagine it – there were too many risks to face each day.  He thought of his wife – dead for five years, and of his daughter, who would be an orphan at the age of thirteen.  He looked up to the sky, watching the flakes of snow drift down, settling in his hair, on his face, and wondered.  Was this emptiness what his friend and colleague had felt six months earlier?

A single shot was fired and 009 slumped forward, dead.

*********************

_A Year Ago:_

__

The taverna was set well back from the main streets, the door to it gave no indication what lay beyond it.  He pushed it open, and stepped into the dim light.  A bored looking barman, a glass in one hand, a cloth in the other looked over at him and nodded.  Follow me, the instruction was clear.  He led the man up the back flight of stairs and onto a terrace that over looked the city.  The air was hot and cloying, but the woman that sat at the single table was as cold as ice.

She watched him with those cold blue eyes as he made his way across the terrace, he was slightly stiff, and walked with a limp, but he disguised it well she noted.  

He sat down opposite her, and silence reigned for a while.  

'So it is you.' She finally broke the silence that threatened to choke them.  'I had rather hoped that you were a bad dream.'

He remained stubbornly silent.

'Once, once I can almost understand.  But my god – twice?'

Still he remained silent, jaw set, staring levelly at her.

M poured him a drink.  'So what are we going to do now?'

********************

_Present Day:_

Gregory Fraser raised his glass to the attractive blonde that sat opposite him. The restaurant was quiet, the food sublime, and the company…stunning. 

Lucinda Eliot raised her glass in return to Fraser. A large diamond sparkled on the middle finger of her right hand, the smile confident; a woman who knew she looked good. Her suit jacket was buttoned, to show her hourglass figure to its full advantage. The aquamarine shirt turned her eyes even bluer, and enough buttons were undone to reveal her, well, killer cleavage. 

"Your own company?" he raised an eyebrow at her in a way he thought endearing.   
"A chain actually. Nothing too…big," her fingers stroked the stem of her wine glass in the most suggestive manner. 

Fraser loosened his tie with a finger, he was rather warm. "Shall we, I mean, would you like to..."   
She saved him the bother. Lifting her glass of wine she threw back the final mouthful. "Shall we retire, Mr. Fraser?"   
She was like a lioness, Fraser had never thought that beneath the cool exterior lay a passionate soul, but she was almost devouring him with her kisses. Her hands were frantically tearing his clothes off. He fumbled with the buttons on her shirt, revealing full, stunning breasts in navy satin. He gazed in wonder at them, and she pulled his head so that his face was buried in them. He made mumbling noises of joy, and she made little moans of feigned pleasure, but her gaze was fixed firmly in the man who walked quietly into the room. He nodded, her cue, and she gave a scream. Fraser didn't pay any attention, just carried on mumbling so she pulled his head away. He protested and buried his face again. She held him more firmly this time and he turned and saw the man, the man who raised the small automatic weapon he held, silencer screwed firmly on. Lucinda gave a harsh laugh and gave him a firm push. Gregory fell to the floor, his shirt undone, lipstick smeared on his face. With a little shudder of distaste Lucinda realised he had tiny piggy eyes. The bullet hit him smack between them with a dull fleshy thud.   
  


"You took your time," Lucinda pouted at him, throwing her mane of blonde hair back.   
  


"Didn't want it all to be over too soon," He walked over to kiss her harshly.   
  


"Oh it won't be." Her eyes were dark with desire, her skin hot.   
  


Gregory Fraser's body cooled as the couple writhed on the bed, eyes staring vacantly into space, a thin trickle of blood tracing its path along the bridge of his nose.   
  



	2. Prologue II

Prologue Part II:

_Present Day.___

__

Kain sprinted through the woods, feeling the earth fly underneath her feet, pushing branches out of her way, heading in a north-westerly direction. A light flickered up ahead, shining in a sweeping arch, and she fell to the floor, crouching as low as she could get.  She reached down and scooped up some dirt, smearing it onto her face, silently watching.  She could hear voices up ahead, and she listened closely – she was on target.

Her mission was clear and simple – and deceptively uncomplicated.  A meeting was taking place in a bunker hidden deep in these woods, involving high ranking officials – just how high ranking she hadn't been told – and a foreign dignitary.  An assassination attempt was planned on this man's life, an attempt that if realised would have staggering consequences on foreign politics.  Kain was there to prevent it.  She knew she wasn't the only agent in these woods.  

She reached her assigned area, blending quietly into the night, and almost relaxed for a moment.  She snapped back into action – there wasn't time to be complacent.  Swinging her rucksack off her back, she pulled out a case and began to piece together a small automatic rifle with a viewing agent.  She waited, ready.  

The door to the bunker – a seemingly disused World War II arms unit – opened and a group of well protected people exited, heading for the reinforced car that waited for them.  Kain focused on the area that she had been assigned to, ten degrees to the east and above the bunker.  She expected nothing, and therefore was surprised when she picked out a shadowy figure – and knew immediately that this was the assassin.  It was time to do her job; she raised her rifle, and carefully aimed it.  They were lined up in her sights, and with her thumb she gently eased off the safety.  Her index finger teased the trigger, waiting for the clear shot to present itself… and there it was.

She fell backwards, throwing her hands over her head protectively as the shot hit the tree that sheltered her.  She lay there stunned briefly, until her startled mind realised that she was being shot at.  It had almost been a hit; she was showered with the tiny pieces of bark that had splintered away from the force of the bullet.  She pressed into the ground, her heart thudding, Jesus… it was going wrong!

There was a terrifying moment as shots rang out all over the place.  Kain did her best, providing covering fire for the agents protecting the officials, but then she saw the foreign minister being hustled into the car.

An owl hooted.

It was the signal.

The mission was over.

Kain blended back into the shadows.  Perhaps the mission hadn't been a complete failure after all.  

Seven hours later, Kain paused and pulled her map and GPS unit from the rucksack.  She was seemingly alone on the moor, a few sheep dotted the tor opposite, but nothing other signs of life.  She quickly checked her bearing, and then broke once more into a light jog.  She wore black leggings and fleece, moulded to her slim body, and carried a black teardrop shaped rucksack.  It was still too early for the ramblers to be out, and no one would notice her as she made her way to the tor.  

She checked her watch, almost on time, but slightly early.  Quickly she climbed the craggy outcrop, and pulled out her water bottle, drinking deeply.  She saw the figure approach from the west, and ignored him until he was standing next to her.  She glanced briefly at him, and waited.  He murmured the correct statement and she replied with her prepared answer.

'Agent Kain.' He had a deep, melodic, husky voice, and it sent a tingle down her spine as he said her name.  

'Agent Brent.' She turned and smiled at the agent she had been assigned to meet.  Her smile got wider as she looked him up and down.  He stood about 6'2, with close cropped light brown hair, pale blue eyes, and a nose that had been broken more than once in the past.  He was exceptionally well built. 

Richard Brent found himself smiling down at slim, dark haired young woman, about 5'5.  Her hair was tied back, revealing a high forehead, her nose was too big for her face, but she was still attractive.  She had a lovely smile – open and relaxed.  

They hiked in companionable silence for about five miles, until they reached the car that was waiting for them.  Kain produced the keys.  'You drive?'

Brent held his hands up to catch the keys.  'Sure.' He caught them neatly and unlocked the car.

The radio played quietly in the background as they drove up country towards London.  Kain stretched out in the passenger seat, leaning her head against the side bar.  She unzipped her fleece a little and tucked her hands inside.

'Are you cold?' Brent asked.

'A little,' she yawned.

He reached over and turned the heat up a bit.  'Better?'

'Thanks.' She smiled at him, and then got as comfortable as she could and closed her eyes.  Her breathing deepened and she slept.   

Brent checked his passenger and then drove off the motorway onto a minor road.  He glanced at Kain again, and thought how peaceful she looked, the nights assignment must have worn her out.  Her cheeks were still flushed from the biting wind on the moor; her lips were parted slightly as she slept.  

'Kain?'

No response.

He pulled over.  She was a nice enough girl, attractive he had decided, but far too inexperienced to be trusted with a case like this.  It was a shame, if it was another time he'd met her, he might have asked her out, a drink one evening, but no, he had a job to do.

He took out the fine piece of cord, and looped it round his hands.  She was turned slightly away from him, the perfect angle for what he had to do.  He brought the cord over her head, ready to jerk it up into the soft flesh of her throat.

Kain's eyes were open in a second, bringing her hand up sharply, placing her watch between the cord and her throat. Her elbow slammed into Brent's stomach.  In her right hand she held her weapon, concealed within her fleece all this time.  A vicious struggle ensued, Brent was the heavier, and much stronger of the two, and Kain knew that she just had to hold him long enough… just long enough…

He gave her a crushing blow to her head, and stars swam in front of her eyes.  It was enough for him to gain the advantage.  She struggled once more, but he rammed a knee into the small of her back, and it gave him more control. Kain had time for a huge mouthful of air before the cord bit into the flesh of her throat.

It was more painful than she had been informed, biting and burning her flesh, her lungs felt as if they would burst.  She felt faint, unable to breathe, where the hell where they?

She was fading first, her struggles grew weaker, and with a horrible dizzy feeling she began to pass out…

Hands were grabbing her, loosening the cord from around her throat, pulling her from the car, shaking her back to consciousness.  

Brent was lying on the floor, two agents pinning him down, and Kain saw those pale blue eyes piercing her.  She shrugged and looked away, he was nothing now. She'd known as soon as she'd asked him to drive that he was the double agent, all others had been informed to refuse her offer.  

Bill Kitchener was crouching by her.

'Kain?' he asked, shining a slim torch into her eyes, watching her pupils dilate and follow the light.  'Are you okay?'

'You took your time,' she grumbled.

'Well, we had to make sure.' He handed her a handkerchief.  'You're bleeding.'

She touched her fingers to her throat as Kitchener walked away, and felt the angry raised cut, and sighed.  She wondered why the bloody hell she had volunteered for this assignment.  She had laid her life on the line to catch Brent – knew how dangerous he was, and put her trust into the fact that the other agents would show – even if it had been a little late.  Almost too late?  She really didn't know, how long would she have had before she had passed out completely, and died?  What if things had gone wrong?  She had been warned that there would be violence, that the rogue agent wouldn't hesitate to kill her, yet she had still volunteered for it, to prove that she could cope with it, that she could handle the more dangerous tasks, desperate to prove that she should be allowed to try for 00 status.  She sighed again.  It didn't matter now, the mission was over.


	3. Chapter One

The Alfa Romeo Spider slotted neatly into the parking space deep in the basement of the MI6 building, a final roar of the engine surged before it cut out. From the low driver's seat, a pair of legs in pinstriped trousers and high heeled boots swung out. Ashleigh Kain, a member of MI6's Intelligence Service climbed from the car, and then walked across the car park. Younger than most of the agents, at twenty five she was on the fast track within the Service, intelligent and logical, coolheaded and lethal with a weapon. There were rumours that she had been handpicked by M herself to join MI6, and it did seem that the young agent experienced a special relationship with the head of the organisation.  

Kain was not what could be called a beautiful woman, at least not at first glance.  She was attractive, rather than a great beauty, with a pleasant rounded face, framed by dark brows, and deep golden brown eyes.  She was about 5'5, slim and muscled, a result from her love of kickboxing and martial arts. Her dark hair swung round her face in a layered style, her eyes peeked out from beneath her slanted fringe, full pink lips curved in a smile as she locked the car, her pride and joy. Dressed in a tailored suit and a pale blue shirt she strode confidently through the car park and into the building, ignoring the stares that the other agents threw in her direction, curious as usual about the young woman.  At the end of a quiet corridor, deep within the building she reached an unmarked door, and slipped inside.

Kain was greeted by a woman in her late thirties, or early forties, elegantly dressed in a navy suit, the hint of a camisole showing above the buttons of her jacket, her pale red hair brushed away from her delicate features.  Cool, and efficient she turned her head as Kain entered the small office, and nodded at her, before sliding the file she held into its rightful place within the cabinet.  Kain gave a small smile, to disguise her awkwardness. The woman smiled warmly back at her, and holding out her arms, gave the girl a quick embrace.

"Hello, Ashleigh,"   
  

"Moneypenny," Kain's embrace was equally warm, full of affection for the older woman, she let her guard down for a moment, and then stepped back, once more the cool young agent.

Moneypenny smiled once more at Kain, remembering fondly the handsome man that had been her father, his dark good looks echoed in his daughter. "How are you?" she asked.   
  

It was a sign of Ashleigh's trust of this woman that she admitted her anxiety. "Nervous,"  
  

"You can go right in, M's waiting for you. And it'll be over soon." Moneypenny was quick to reassure, but she noted that Ashleigh didn't look nervous, in fact Agent Kain looked as calm as she ever did as she rapped briefly on the door, and took a deep breath before pushing it open.  
  


The woman that sat behind the desk in her inner sanctum was as cool as the young woman that sat opposite her. Smartly dressed in a linen suit and her grey hair cropped, she appraised the younger woman. She noticed the thin red scratch on her throat, all that remained of the cut taken a few weeks previously, during the capture of the double agent Richard Brent.  Kain had really shown her bravery then, allowing herself to be put into a dangerous situation with a killer, and it was her simple bravery that had allowed the agent to be captured.  M had wanted a female agent, the sexism that still existed within the organisation would have twisted Brent's mind to think that Kain was not as experienced as she was, and therefore not a threat.  It had been a gamble that had paid off.  
  


"I don't like to get personal Kain, but this time I feel I have to".   
  


"Sir?" Kain felt an overwhelming urge to start plucking at the fabric of her pinstripe trousers, but resisted it, forcing her hand to lay flat upon the material instead.  Her heart pounded.   
  


"You've progressed far through the service, in a very short time. Cryptology, Military Intelligence, Foreign Relations, even a stint in the Weapons Department. Where do you think your future lies?"   
  


"The 00 sector".   
  


"You're very sure of that,"   
  


"Yes, sir." Her mouth was dry.    
  


"Following in your father's footsteps? You don't have an automatic right to do so,"   
  


"Sir."   
  


"There have only ever been three women in the 00 sector. Two have been killed; one lived long enough to retire. It's not an easy life, but I feel that you, more than any other female agent that I can think of, could excel in the department. A career perhaps to rival your father's, or even your godfather's, though I hope that you would be slightly more conscientious of your orders". A raise of the almost regal eyebrow. "I have faith in you, Ashleigh. That is why I'm putting you forward for this assignment."   
  


A file was slid across the desk, and Ashleigh fingered it. She felt a flicker of excitement at the label pronouncing 'FOR YOUR EYES ONLY'.  
  


"The current World situation is highly unstable. Terrorism is at an all time high, any country has the potential to snatch domination. We've been hearing rumours. A bioweapon. Deadlier than anything released on this Earth before, 98% lethal. Won't wipe us all out, but leave enough human beings left to control. Airborne, almost undetectable. If released, within two weeks, the human race would be destroyed. Codename; Hermes".   
  


Ashleigh's head snapped up. "The Winged Messenger".   
  


"Exactly. Only a message that's deadly. I'm sending you to Russia. The government there believe that the Hermes project is located somewhere in their country. More rumours. You will accompany a senior agent,"   
  


"Yes, sir" a hint of a smile played across Ashleigh's face. "Am I familiar with this agent?"   
  


The smile was reflected briefly on M's face.   
  


"You will accompany 007. James Bond".   
  


While M and Agent Kain discussed the current threat posed by the Hermes Virus, Moneypenny was thanking the deities of most of the major world religions that she had retouched her make up before Kain had arrived.  For once more James Bond stood before her, in all his confidence, and smooth suavity that he simply exuded.  Moneypenny cursed the fact that this man could reduce her to a gibbering wreck with a single flick of those neatly groomed eyebrows.  She longed for the day that it was her turn for James to actually take her out, rather than just flirt with her.  Until then, she would simply disguise her feelings under a series of well placed quips.  

She had been reaching for a book, high on a shelf when she had heard the door open and the silent padding of an agent entered.  There were only two scheduled to see M this afternoon, and one was already here, the scent of expensive cologne confirmed the identity of the other.  

"Moneypenny, Moneypenny, Moneypenny, you are as delicious as ever."

He was pressed up close behind her, not close enough to touch, but she could feel the warmth coming off him, imagine the feel of the fabric of his well cut suit, and feel the warmth of his breathe tickling the soft skin on her ear.  She resisted the urge to lean back and instead stepped to one side, and around him.

"I don't remember you ever tasting me, James.' She was brisk with him, hoping that the tone would disguise the nature of the comment.  It worked, for a moment he checked, but then decided to ignore it, unusual for him, Moneypenny thought.

"You're very quiet today James.' She sat back down at her desk.  

He smiled charmingly at her.  'I was just thinking about M's briefing, and the agent that I shall be working with.'  

There was something in his voice that caught Moneypenny's attention.  'Do you have a problem with working with Ashleigh?'

He sat on the edge of her desk.  'She's my goddaughter,' he said simply.  'Ashleigh is the closest thing I have to a family, and I find it strange that she will be working with me.  She still seems so young, too young.'

Moneypenny nodded.  'But she is twenty five now, and a very good agent.  Like her father.'

A muscle tightened in James's jaw.  'Yes.  Like David.'

'I was thinking about him today,' Moneypenny said softly, 'it seems like only yesterday…'

'I know,' his voice was equally soft.  

'The three of you were so close…' Moneypenny's voice tailed off, and her eyes widened in horror as she realised what she had said.  'Two…' she stammered trying to cover her mistake, 'The two of you…' she realised she couldn't hide her error, saw the sudden coldness leap into James's eyes, the coldness of a friend betrayed.  'James, I'm so sorry…'

'I'm just glad David never knew how he changed.  What he did…'

There was no need to name him, no need to speak that name.  The intimacy was lost, and they lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.  The buzzer on the intercom, when it sounded was loud, and Moneypenny jumped a little.  She reached out and pressed the connecting button.

'Send 007 in please, Moneypenny.' M's order lost no power over the intercom.

'Right away, sir.' Moneypenny looked up at James and nodded towards the door.  James stood and walked into M's office.

Ashleigh looked up as her godfather walked into the room.  She suddenly realised that she hadn't seen him for a month or two, and she felt a surge of pleasure at the sight of him.  He noticed her small smile, and returned it, the teasing little smile that he had always given her, since she was a little girl demanding his attention.  Then instantly they both composed their features back to the professional neutrality expected of them.    

M noticed the little family exchange, and resisted the urge to smile.  She was interested to see how Bond would respond to this challenge, he didn't particularly enjoy working with female agents, and it would be fascinating to see how he would react to working with one he had a personal connection to. She passed over a set of documents, including plane tickets. 

'You will both fly out to St. Petersburg tomorrow, and rendezvous with a Russian agent there.  Kain has been briefed about the Hermes Virus 007, and is aware of her role within this mission.'

'Sir.' Bond nodded.

M turned to face Kain.  'Please excuse 007 and I for a moment Kain, if you will proceed down to the weapons department and wait there, Q will supply you with everything you shall need for this assignment.'

For a moment, Ashleigh frowned, sensing the dismissal in M's voice.  And then obediently she nodded.  'Yes, sir'.

Ashleigh was fuming as she left the room, sensing that James was about to be told information that vital to the case, but obviously too sensitive for her ears.  She paused in her anger, and then felt the tension leave her body.  She shrugged, she was the junior agent, and what else could she expect?

M faced James once more.  'I didn't want Kain present for this, in case she is compromised during the mission.  We've discovered some links between the Hermes Virus and an organisation called the Deronda Syndicate.  It's led by a man called Caleb Deronda, although little is known about him, or the organisation.  I want you to find out everything that you can about this syndicate, especially in relation to Hermes.  When you are confident of the correlation, you may inform Agent Kain.'

Bond flicked through the file, silently absorbing the information.  He could hold back no longer.  'With respect sir, is it such a good idea that Ashleigh, I mean, Agent Kain accompanies me?'

M's eyes flickered.  'You fear for her safety 007?'

Bond knew he was being provoked.  'Kain is more than capable of taking care of herself.  I was worried more that the fact she is my goddaughter could be a link that is exploited.'

'Simple 007 don't let it be exploited.' M stared levelly at Bond. Then she softened, letting herself reveal her affection for the young agent 'I have plans for Kain, I think she will be a highly successful agent.  Don't let anything happen to her Bond, or I shall hold you personally responsible.'

Later Bond mused, that was about as personal as M would let herself get.


	4. Chapter Two

A/N:  Thank you for the reviews, I wasn't sure whether or not to continue with this, but have been encouraged to thanks to the reviews.

See Prologue I for disclaimer, in this chapter I own Vaskov and Borushka and anyone else I previously mentioned.  The rest, I'm borrowing...  hope I don't get any overdue fines…

ST PETERSBURG.

Bond and Kain flew into the Pulkovo II International Airport the next day; the city plunged into near darkness despite the early hour.  They had arrived in St. Petersburg, the 'Venice of the North', built by Peter the Great on the northern delta as a defence against Sweden.  As the plane swooped down towards the airport Ashleigh watched the land below her, the hundreds of islands forming the city, pounded by the cold northern sea.  Ashleigh felt nothing but anticipation at the sight of the land below her; she had visited Russia several times, but always Moscow, never the city that had withstood the two and a half year siege during World War II through pure pride.

James noticed her eagerness, and her excitement at their journey's conclusion.  It was the first time that her professionalism had slipped since they had met at the airport.  

'Just remember we're here for a reason, so the sightseeing will have to wait,' he murmured to her.  

She spun to face him, anger clear on her face until she realised he was teasing her.  'As long as you remember that as well,' she smirked at him, knowing full well his reputation for admiring the opposite sex.   Already she had caught a few women glancing interestedly in his direction.

He smiled wryly, and shook out a newspaper, burying his head in the news of the day.

Caleb Deronda was a tall man, over six feet, with olive skin, and brown hair that wanted to curl.  He had been educated in America, excelling in microbiology and later business studies.  Usually calm and composed, his face was now flushed an angry red, and he paced through his office, glaring at the man that stood silently watching him.  

He growled. 'I don't like bad news.'   

The other man remained silent.  It was easier to sit the anger out rather than to argue.  

Deronda peered out of the small window, rubbing the stubble that lined his strong jaw.  'So he refused our generous offer?'

The other man nodded.  

'You made sure that it cannot be traced back here?'

'Yes.'

'Good.'  That was something at least.  'You have new orders.'

The man waited patiently to hear them.  

'Vaskov will be removed.'

That was to be expected.  The second order would be more awkward.

'Are you a discreet man?' Deronda asked.

Borushka sweated.  'Of course…' he mumbled.  

'I no longer want your discretion.'  Borushka frowned, puzzled, and more than a little afraid.  

He was even more disturbed when Deronda began to smile.  

'I want you to be indiscreet.  Mouth off.  Go out, get drunk, and speak to anyone who might be interested.'

'You want me to talk about you and the…'

Deronda spun round, anger once more on his face.  'No.  Not me.  I want you to link our little project with another man.  You know who.  The British Intelligence are already aware of Hermes.  They would be most interested to discover who is supposedly behind it all.'

The anger faded once more.  It would give Deronda great pleasure to see this rival destroyed.  His order to Borushka was the final nail in the coffin.  

Despite Bond's assurance that they would not have anytime for sightseeing, Ashleigh was still seeing more of the city than she had ever dared to hope.  However, with the cold wind blasting in from the sea, and the snow flurrying around her face, she would have rather been indoors.  Her black wool coat, seemed too thin, her hands were numb despite the gloves she wore, and the wind still stung her face, no matter how deep she buried it into the scarf she wore.  

They walked through the Palace Square towards the Alexander Column.  To the north, the dramatically pretty Baroque style Winter Palace stood, facing to the south the former headquarters of the Imperial Army, with its Triumphal Arch.    Ashleigh gave nothing more than the briefest glance in their direction, instead keeping her head down, and her eyes half closed against the snow and the wind.  

The local residents hurried about their business, shaking their heads, and muttering about the madness of foreign tourists.  Apart from Kain and Bond, there were a few, eagerly discussing the architecture and the legends behind the buildings.  Therefore it was easy to spot the man they were assigned to meet.  

He stood at the base of the column, collar turned up against the wind, trying to light a cigarette, but the wind kept snatching the flame away, no matter what angle he stood at.  With a muttered curse, he stuffed the lighter back into a pocket, and looked up as Bond approached, with Kain a few steps behind.  

  'You're late,' he said in accented English.  

'The trains.' Bond apologised smoothly.  

The man smiled.  'Isn't it odd how the trains effect the taxis?'  He held his hand out to Bond.  'Vasili Dmitrov.' 

Bond smiled and shook the proffered hand; he had no time for the formalities of espionage.  'Bond, James Bond.  And this is Ashleigh Kain, also with MI6.'

Dmitrov nodded at Kain.  He was tall, and thin, with Slavic cheekbones, eyes as dark as obsidian, with matching smudges beneath, and a thin mouth.  His black curls fell over his pale forehead, and he moved with the grace of a dancer.  'You are cold?' he asked, but didn't wait for an answer.  'We'll go somewhere out of the wind.'

In a small dark bar, they exchanged knowledge of the assignment.  Dmitrov talked rapidly and quietly, Kain had to lean forward to catch his words.

'Hermes was offered to a member of the Russian government, Roman Vaskov.  He at once understood what was being offered, but decided that it would be better to decline the generous offer.  Understandably, he is now convinced that his life in danger.' Dmitrov shrugged. 'Which of course, it is, our duty is to preserve it.'

'Why?' Bond asked.

Dmitrov ran a hand through his curls.  'He may not be a strong man, but he is a powerful man.  The weak ones usually are.  It would be most displeasing if anything happened to him, and to his bank account.'

Bond nodded, understanding perfectly.  So be it, Vaskov was to be protected.  'What else?'

'There is to be a shipment tonight.  Weapons, cash, or Hermes itself, we don't know, but we do know where.  And whoever is running the scheme will be there.'

'Do we know his identity?'

Dmitrov frowned.  'No.  Whoever it is works underground, rarely surfaces long enough for our intelligence to discover anything about him.  And it isn't through a lack of trying.  We've been waiting for a year or so now to find out exactly who this person is and what he is dealing with.  This is the clearest opportunity we have had so far.  Are you willing to assist?'

Bond glanced at Kain.  'Of course.'    


	5. Chapter Three

This wasn't going to plan.  The thought repeated itself in Ashleigh's head, this wasn't going to plan.  She was pressed up against a wall, her heart pounding, surely loud enough to give away her position.   Moving slowly, she reached under her jacket for her holster, and slid her weapon from it.  Every movement conspired against her, sounding painfully loud in the quiet underground garage.  

They had arrived twenty minutes earlier, and watched the men arrive.  Dmitrov and James had slipped into the garage, concealed in the shadows, expecting Ashleigh to drive away a few minutes later, and wait for them at the hotel. It would be easier to conceal two people rather than three, and Ashleigh had agreed, they would keep in contact with a small radio device.  It wasn't as if there would be any trouble, Dmitrov had insisted that this was simply an observation. That had been the plan.  Of course, the plan hadn't included the second car turning up just as Ashleigh had been preparing to leave.  She had been sitting in the dark saloon, the engine running, headlights switched off, slowly counting to fifty in case there was a problem, and the two agents were to return.  Just as she slid the car into gear, a second car had arrived, and two men had clambered out, heading into the building as James and Dmitrov had minutes earlier.  She had a nasty feeling that this car and its occupants were here solely to cause trouble.  

So she had slipped silently from the car and into the first level of the garage.  The meeting would take place on the third floor, down, Dmitrov and James were somewhere on that level.  Unable to use the radio for fear of alerting whoever to their presence, it appeared that this was one message that she would have to deliver in person.

Keeping pressed up against the walls, shrouding herself in shadows, she edged towards the stair case that would lead her to the lower levels.  She ached to run, but knew she would draw far too much attention to herself, her boots clicked on the concrete floor, she held her breath each time she took another step.  Her gun was a comforting weight in her hand, the reassurance that she needed.  She reached the door, and painstakingly drew it open, inch by inch, until she could slip through.  

On the concrete stairs she had a brief respite, clattering down the steps as quickly as she dared.  She peered through the grimy tiny pane of glass, all clear, she crept through.  It took a little time for her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, a single strip of weak bulbs running along the walls, barely illuminating the empty parking spaces.  She trailed the length of the level, her eyes darting into the corners, praying that James and Dmitrov might be here, and not already further down.  It appeared to be empty.  

'Damndamndamndamndamn' she muttered.  

A noise from the other end of the level caused her to flit into the nearest dark corner.  It was time to make a move, she waited, listening, and decided that it had been her imagination; she crept back to the stairwell. On the second level, she had learnt her lesson, she simply peered around the door, realised that it was deserted, and turning, began to descend to the third level.  

It was unclear who was the more surprised, Ashleigh or the two well built men that were climbing the stairs towards her.  They stared at each other for a small eternity, and then the taller man, with the cold blue eyes saw her weapon.  His eyes narrowed, Ashleigh followed his gaze.  Both men reached into their jackets, and Ashleigh had more than a good idea about what they would be reaching for.

It was time for a snap decision, and she decided that discretion was the better part of valour.  She span on her heel, and sprinted back up the stairs.   

She had a good head start, taking the stairs two at a time, using the grubby feeling banister to drag herself up, listening to the pounding steps of the two men following her.  She nearly tripped as she reached the top of the stairs, grabbing at the handle of the door, the rusted spring mechanism protesting at its harsh treatment as she pulled it open.  The garage suddenly seemed impossibly long before her; surely it hadn't stretched to this length when she had crept along its dark walls earlier. She had to get to the end, then up the exit slope and she would be out in the open, and more difficult to target.

Ashleigh ran.  Her high heeled boots resounded with an echo through the empty garage, she wondered if she could be heard on the levels below.  She sprinted as if her life depended on it, in fact, it probably did.  Her weapon felt heavy in her hand, her breath was catching painfully in her lungs, slowing her down.  A shot was fired at her, the bullet ricocheting off the nearest pillar, frighteningly close; her hands flew instinctively to her ears, her body already crouching, trying to make herself as small a target as possible.  Glancing over her shoulder she saw that the way behind her was still clear, but it wouldn't last for long, the bullet must have been a lucky shot taken from the hallway.  

If she could just get to the car.  It was so close, just up the slope, and outside, already she was fumbling for the keys, urging her body on, to move faster.

A second bullet and loud footsteps told her that the men were close behind and gaining, she abandoned her escape and ducked behind a pillar, cursing.  Breathing deeply, trying to get a rhythm to her frantically beating heart, she fought with the clip of the gun, checking it was fully loaded.  With a harsh click she slid it back into place, her thumb drawing back the safety.  A final breath, she stepped around the pillar, fired twice, and ducked back.  

Both men were approaching rapidly, both were armed.  She swore again.  The footsteps were still thundering towards her.  Bracing herself she threw herself once more into the sprint of her life, knowing a moving target would be harder to hit than a stationary.  It was her only chance.

Ashleigh never knew what caused her to fall, her footing slid out from beneath her, and she hit the ground with a bone jarring thump, the breath forcibly removed from her already aching lungs.  Her Walter PPK clattered across the slick tarmac, tantalizingly close to her fingertips, and she scrambled for it.  Strong hands gripped her back, pulling her upright.  Briefly she saw the harsh blue eyes of the taller man, a fist flew through the air, a violent blow, and all went black.

They stood over her prone body, unsure what to do next.  They stepped back respectively as he approached.

'Is she dead?' he asked.  He only half cared.

The man that had dealt the cruel blow shook his head.  'Just KOed.'

'Who is she?' when they simply shrugged, he sighed.  'Find out.'

The other man reached down, pulling her onto her back, she had fallen onto her stomach.  He rummaged through her jacket, and pulled out a slim black wallet.  He handed it to the man who had just arrived.  

He took it, staring down at the unconscious woman.  He noted her pale face, framed by dark brows, and thick short eyelashes pressed against her cheeks.  Unusual looks, he decided, and suddenly an irrational thought flickered through his mind; he wondered what colour her eyes would be if she were to open them now and look directly at him.  

Pushing the thought away he opened the wallet he held, pulling out the first card he came to.  He read the name upon it, feeling a flicker of recognition at the initials and surname embossed there.  It wasn't a common name he mused, but neither was it unusual.  He pulled out the driver's licence, and he knew then.  It didn't matter that the picture that was printed upon it was small and blurred, staring at the name, the disturbingly familiar name he knew exactly what colour her eyes would be.  They would be a rich warm brown, full of laughter, always amused, eyes that would change to green when she smiled.  Eyes that he knew, and remembered all to well.

He smiled.  He also knew what a valuable hand she was.  The game was on.  


	6. Chapter Four

Her cheek was clammy against the cool leather of the couch.  She swam up through a red haze, the rich scent of the fabric filling her senses.  Combined with the pounding pain in her head, the smell made her feel nauseous.  She felt feverish, shaky, hot and cold at the same time; she was confused, and groggy.  Slowly she raised a hand and gingerly explored the lump that was forming under her dark hair.

A glass of water was placed with a clink on the table in front of her.  She flinched at the sound; it bit viciously into her head.  But the lure of the cold water was too much; she struggled into a sitting position, her eyes focused only on the water that promised cool relief.  She gulped at it.

'Slowly.'  The voice was clear, precise.  Ashleigh lifted her head to focus on the owner, as she saw him the glass slipped from her suddenly numb fingertips, shattering on the hardwood floor.

'Janus!'

That laugh again.  The rasping hiss building up into a rich reverberating laugh that grated against her senses.  The owner of that voice was staring at Ashleigh with an unsettling smile on his face.  That face was scarred badly down the right side, scars that Ashleigh knew would continue all the way down his lean muscled body to his slim hips.  

A strong jaw.  A confidence that vibrated through his entire demeanour.  Grey blue eyes glittered beneath dark blond hair, now closely cropped to his head.  The man oozed power.  It was the scarring that gave the definite clue to his identity.  But he was a man that was dead.  A man killed three years previously by James Bond.  

Her confusion shone through her façade of bravery.  Her knitted brow gave away every thought to Alec Trevelyan, the traitor of the British Secret Service.  

'So surprised?' A little smirk was beginning to play on the edge of his lips.  'You look like you've seen a ghost.'

'You're supposed to be dead.' Her tone was flat, her wording blunt.  

'I would think that all evidence points to the contrary.'

'James killed you.'  She was desperate to regain the upper hand, her confusion, her headache, her shock at seeing him running rings around simple coherent thought.  She played her trump card, his hatred of Bond.

His attitude changed from one of quiet amusement to full on aggression, he lunged across the room, his strong hands pinning her wrists to the chair.  

'He failed.' Alec hissed.  'And I want you to inform him of his mistake.'  Like his namesake his mood suddenly switched again, he moved slowly back from her, one hand smoothing down his hair.  He pushed a button on the intercom.

'Show our guest to her room please.'

To her surprise Ashleigh was treated with respect.  Having guessed that she was in Trevelyan's private quarters she tried to recall the passages around her, but the place was so large she soon became disorientated.  She was deposited into a large tastefully furnished room, where she found her belongings, minus her phone, keys and gun.  Left alone she roamed the room searching for a mode to escape, but the place was windowless, and the vents too small for her to even consider.  In the bathroom she found thick towels, a large shower, even a new toothbrush.  Looking for something to occupy herself she opened a bottle of shampoo and smelt its clean fruity fragrance.  It was a gorgeous set of rooms to be in, but it was still her cell, and she was beginning to feel caged.

The bedroom had been done in soft muted neutrals, a huge bed in the centre of the room, with crisp sheets and soft blankets.  Her head was still hurting her, it was tempting to just lie down and sleep, but she couldn't relax yet, knowing her every move was probably being watched, two way mirrors, peepholes, cameras on every part of the room.  She prowled, feeling a little stir crazy already, trying the door with little hope of success, proved right when it refused to open.  Like a caged animal she paced the room, one side to the other, and then back again, all the time worrying her thumbnail, trying to concentrate.  She sat on the sofa.  She opened every drawer she could find, amused to find them empty.  She lay on the bed, overwhelmed by a sense of anticipation.  Finally she decided that a shower would help to ease the pain in her head.

Having showered she lay on the bed.  She no longer felt the urge to escape.  Common sense told her that it would be better to just wait the situation out.  Wait for instructions rather than take action. Wrapped in the soft bathrobe, her head still throbbing she felt strangely safe on the comfortable bed.  To surprise she fell asleep.

Hours had passed when she was woken by a buzzing noise.  Turning her head she saw a slim handset on the chest of drawers next to the bed.  Slowly she picked it up and listened.  An accented voice told her to be dressed and ready within twenty minutes, she would be taken to dinner.  Dinner with Janus.  She murmured her assent, what else could she do?

Dressing quickly, she left off her suit jacket, the elbow scuffed through during her fall.  She had a bruise in a corresponding position.  Flinging the jacket over the back of the sofa, she sat and waited.  Anxiously she wondered what Trevelyan's role in all of this was.  Had he been supplying or taking receipt of the virus?  How dangerous was he?  Her stomach turned over at the thought of having to spend time in his company, he was a man with little remorse, a known killer and her fate was in his hands.  She was scared.  Very scared.  She jumped as there was a knock at the door, and a man entered, beckoning her to follow.  It was time to dine with a ghost.

It was claustrophobic in the room, shrouded in darkness, lit only by the tall cream candles.  She trembled, feeling trapped, feeling like she was bound in this room with this man.  She had no idea what to expect, instead she sat and waited, waited for him to strike.  She barely noticed the intimacy of the setting, the shadows cocooning them.  She simply sat opposite him, sometimes catching his eye through the flickering flames.  She refused wine, ignored the food in front of her, she sat with her hands in her lap, anticipating.  Her attention was solely on the candle in front of her, watching the wax cascade down the column, and pool at its base.  She couldn't speak, her mouth was dry, if he asked her a question, she merely nodded or shook her head.  His closeness was intimidating, she was well aware of the danger posed by the man who watched her through the flames.  

Alec Trevelyan was clearly a man of taste.  His suit was cut to emphasise the broadness of his shoulders, and the tapering of his lean muscled body into narrow hips.  He had long legs she noted, when he had walked into the room, and a slight limp.  He stood at six feet, a good half foot taller than Ashleigh, and she knew she was no match for his strength.  As if it would disguise her silence he spoke constantly, telling her simply of his fall to his so called death, the terrible pain of his shattered body, knowing his only chance to escape would be an agonised roll into the satellite's draining system, forcing himself to move, lying on the narrow edge, feeling and hearing the roar of the flames over him, knowing he had cheated death for a second time.  He had learnt to walk again, to rebuild his broken body, and was now back to full strength.  

Ashleigh sat in silence, simply listening, horrified to find herself attracted to this man.  He was her enemy, he could destroy her at any moment, and yet still she wanted to reach out, and touch his face, or to feel the texture of his hair under her hands.  He watched her with cold grey eyes, that focused on her with an intensity she thought would scald her, and without realising it she found herself running her hands through her own hair, and brazenly staring at him, willing him to touch her.  He never broke her gaze.   She reached for her water glass, letting the cold ice bump against her burning lips.  

'You should eat.'

She frowned, dragged back to the moment, finding her voice at last.  'I'm not hungry.'

'How did you find your room?'

'Delightful,' she was sarcastic.  

He sighed.  'I'm trying to be civil.'

'Since when did being civil involve abduction?' she glared at him.  'I presume that my presence here means that it was two of your hired goons that attacked me.'

He ignored her comment, focusing on his own agenda. 'I'm far more interested in finding out why a member of the British Secret Service was investigating that particular garage.'

She decided to be straight with him.  'There was an exchange taking place.  I was warning the agents that I was working with when I was pursued.'

He frowned.  'What sort of exchange?'

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him.  'You were there.  You would know far more than me.'

'I see.'  He leaned forward.  'Yesterday afternoon, a man in my employment learnt of a consignment being made in my name.  Understandably, since I like to keep a low profile, I was intrigued, and decided that it was worth examining in more detail.  You interrupted my men, and they took what they believed to be the appropriate action.'

'So why am I here?'

'Because you were brought here by my men under my orders.'

An obtuse answer.  She gritted her teeth.  'Then when am I allowed to leave?'

'When I say so.  Forgive me, Ashleigh, but your presence here puts me in a strong position, until I can negotiate your release.'

She was relieved that she would at least remain alive.  'So I'm a hostage here?  A pawn to be negotiated.'

'To put it plainly, yes.  You will remain in your rooms, anything you require will be provided.'

'How generous.' Her eyes were narrowed at him; they remained in a deadlock of a cloying silence.

The door opened to the room, and one of the men that all seemed identical to Ashleigh entered.  Ashleigh decided now was her moment.  With a sudden crash her chair tipped backwards as she flung herself from it, her body already pumping with adrenaline, sprinting for the open door.  The man paused, unsure what to do, and Ashleigh took her chance, knotting her fists together into a crude cudgel, with a well time swing she aimed for his face, and was rewarded with a crack as his nose broke, splattering his face and Ashleigh with warm blood.  Ashleigh barely noticed her attention solely on forcing her way through the door. 

With sudden speed and viciousness a hand shot out and grabbed Ashleigh by the wrist.  He snapped her back, swinging her body in a broad arch, using her momentum to hit her against the wall with some force.  She slumped against the cool wall, feeling the shock in her back and neck, the pain in her head reawakened once more.  Alec's snarling face was inches from her terrified one, holding onto her wrist with a painfully strong grip, yet somehow she managed to form her features into a look of contempt.

The fallen man was being helped to his feet, clutching his nose and muttering in Russian that needed no translation.

'Leave us.' Alec growled at them, still staring at her.  When they were slow to respond he turned his head in their direction.  'Get out!' he roared, and Ashleigh cringed back from the anger in his voice.

The men ran.

Alec and Ashleigh's faces were inches apart, their eyes boring into one another; she could feel the heat coming from him.  Ashleigh was stunned by the strength in his tense body, he was bent slightly to meet her face on, he was holding her only by her left wrist but she could barely move.  She no longer felt fear, instead her entire body was screaming for him to touch her, despite the threat he posed.  Pressed against the wall, she fought against the urge to lean forward and mould her body against his.

Alec examined her flushed face, the shining eyes as dark as chocolate, glittering with adrenaline.  Her slim body quivered with tension, he could feel her supple strength, had seen the speed she could move at.  She was a strong, albeit young intelligent woman, and he admired intelligence, as he admired the courage she had shown in her desperate escape plan.  Foolhardy, but still courageous.  She was also James Bond's goddaughter, he knew that, she was James's and he wanted her all the more for it.  

Reaching up he stroked his thumb against her cheek, rubbing away the smear of blood that lay against her creamy skin.  Her lips parted and she gave a small sigh, almost against her will, at his touch.

Ashleigh didn't know what this man could do.  He had tried to kill James more than once; he was the leader of a huge crime syndicate, a known killer, and an active seeker of revenge.  And to her surprise, she wanted him more than any man she had ever seen.

Alec kissed her.  His stubble grated against her, his hand tightened on her wrist until she gasped, and kissed him back harder.  Suddenly, breaking the kiss, still holding onto her wrist, his long fingers digging into her slim arm, he dragged her along dark corridors until they came to a large double mahogany door.  A guard stood nearby, but seeing Alec's approach he stepped discreetly away.  Alec opened the door and Ashleigh was flung into the room.

It was dark in the room, made darker by the heavy furniture and leather sofas.  Ashleigh only had time to take in the bed, lit by a sliver of light creeping in through the window, before Alec's mouth was on hers once more and she was lost in his electrifying kiss.  

Alec finally let go of her wrist, but pulled her into an incredibly tight embrace, pressing the length of his body against hers.  His fingers reached up beneath the fabric of her shirt to stroke the smooth skin of her lower back, feeling her arch against his touch, pressing her body closer against his.  A little gasp stole from her lips, and he crushed her against him.  

She ran her hands over his hair, tugging his head down to hers, tracing the pattern of his scars, and not minding them.  Her arms slid under his jacket to find the muscle of his torso, her hands skimmed over his hips, wanting to move them further down, to caress the areas of his body that she wanted most.  She could feel his desire for her in every touch, desire that was echoed in her own caresses, he was shrugging off his jacket, bringing his freed hands to her shoulders.  He broke the kiss, moving away from her slightly, he saw the dismay in her eyes, so kissed her gently, his fingers deftly undoing each button on her shirt, teasing her, and himself, until he could pull the shirt from her shoulders, kissing each in turn, trailing up the hollow of her throat until he found her lips once more, laying her upon the bed.

Undressing her slowly he took in every curve, every patch of skin, she watched his eyes as they roamed over her body, darkening with every second that passed, and her response was to pull him down to her.

They made love for hours, danger and passion combined in hedonistic pleasure, truly Ashleigh was sleeping with the enemy.  Yet this enemy held her gently in his arms, one hand tracing the curve of her side until she fell asleep.


	7. Chapter Five

Ashleigh was lost in a deep sleep, feeling warm, and secure within the covers that twisted around her body.  She dreamt.

She stood on the top of the stairs in her childhood home, the phone was ringing.  She felt a knot of terror deep in her stomach, which intensified as the phone cut off abruptly.  She forced the feeling down, already worrying the thumbnail on her left hand; tasting the soap she had washed her hands with earlier, its citrus taste bitter in her mouth.  She knew she should be studying, she had to return to school soon, not crouching trying to snatch broken bits of conversation from her father's study.  The terror intensified, her father, her father was dead, and this was it, the moment she was told.  Slowly she began to descend down the stairs.

No.  Her dreaming self tried to break through, to shake her thirteen year old self by the shoulders. No.  This wasn't how it happened.  She had been at school when she had received news of her father's death, in the middle of a games lesson, playing hockey.  She had remembered glancing over her shoulder, seeing her headmistress approach the pitch, the hurried whispered conversation, the girls paused where they stood. The whistle had blown, piercing in the autumn peace, and Miss Lockley, the games mistress had called Ashleigh over.  Later Ashleigh would watch from the window of the Headmistress's office at her class as they continued with the game.  The words would glide over her as she studied a smudge of red dust from the hockey pitch on her white socks, still clutching her hockey stick furtively, vulnerable in her gym skirt and the bib denoting her position as right forward.  A car crash, terribly sorry, someone was coming to pick her up, so tragic, a horribly tragic accident.  And so she had become an orphan, and lost her father.  She hadn't been in the hall way listening… no she had been at school.  She approached the door to her father's office tentatively, her hand rose to knock, creeping in, seeing her father sitting in his huge leather chair, his head in his hands.  

'Daddy?' she had asked, scared by his look of despair.  He had reached for her, holding her in his arms, stonily silent, until she had pulled away from his uncomfortably tight embrace, and asked 'what, what is it?'.  A man had died, a man he knew, his friend, a car crash, and Ashleigh had listened stunned as she had been told Alec Trevelyan was dead.  Her father crushed by the loss of his friend, had withdrawn into his work, refusing to speak the name of the dead man.  She had not understood his devastation then, but later she had.  The betrayal, 006's betrayal of England, and of his friends, her father.  He had betrayed her father, and now she lay in his bed….

With a jolt, the sheets sticking to her sweat soaked skin she awoke, the light was just beginning to creep into the room.  It took a moment to focus on the room around her, and the memories of the night before to come flooding back.  

She glanced around, and discovered to her relief that she was alone, running her hands along the crumpled sheets she found they were cool to her touch; she had slept alone for some time.  But the dented pillow and the cool fresh scent that filled the air confirmed that at some point during the night she had shared this bed.  

Shakily she stood, wrapping the sheet around her naked body, trying not to let horror rise too far within her, she needed to stay in control.  Pulling open a door she found the bathroom and turned the shower on, scalding hot, letting the water pound her as if it would remove the feel of Alec's hands from her body.  His taste was in her mouth, the smell of his cologne filled her nostrils, and her skin tingled where he had touched her.  Frantically she scrubbed at her skin, until it was almost raw.  

Ashleigh had just finished dressing; avoiding looking at the bed when the door had opened and the pale eyed man had entered.  She was almost relieved, grateful that it was not Janus returning.  Now they eyed each other with distrust, and the hatred of enemies.

'You're bringing me back to my own room?' she asked as civilly as she could considering the situation.  

He almost seemed surprised.  'I am to return you to your hotel.'

Ashleigh ignored the mocking tone in his voice.  'I thought I was to be held here as a hostage until further notice?'

'It appears that notice is up.'  The man gave a sly glance in the direction of the still crumpled bed.

It would be best not to argue Ashleigh decided; she spun on her heel and headed for the door.

'One moment,' the man held up a thick piece of dark material.  'I have been ordered to blindfold you for the duration of your journey.  Janus's orders of course.'

 Ashleigh paused, her mouth dry, already feeling starkly vulnerable under his icy gaze.  Reluctantly she gave a tiny nod, her permission, and was plunged into darkness as the man tied the knot around her head none too gently.  She could feel his hands directing her throughout the maze of the house, stumbling uncertain where to put her feet.  The cold hit her sharply as they exited the house, and then a hand was on her head pushing her down, and she was surrounding by the smell of new car.  

There was nothing else she could do but merely sit there and try to ignore the horrible dizzy feeling that swirled in her mind.  Disorientated, knocked off balance by every change of direction she huddled into the seat, and clenched her fists.

She had been stupid, stupid and seduced.  Her hatred of Alec Trevelyan bubbled up within her, only matched by her anger at herself for falling into his bed so quickly.  How could she have done it? One flash of those greeny grey eyes and she had shucked her clothes so quickly it was a miracle she hadn't given herself friction burns.  Trevelyan, Janus, was a killer, who might have easily have killed her instead of kissing her, and no matter how good it had been, she had made an awful error of judgement.  She was no flirty agent who batted her eyes to get information; she prided herself on her intelligence and common sense.  Well, it appeared that both had abandoned her last night.  She sat and fumed as the car cut through the miles, her traitorous body recalling every single electric touch, every shiver of pleasure that had coursed through her.  

The car was slowing, she heard the jerk of the handbrake, and the engine cut out.  She frantically tried to untie the blindfold, convinced that she was in the middle of nowhere, and about to find herself nose to barrel with a 9mm.  The door next to her opened and rough hands helped to loosen the knot.  She jerked away, pulling the cloth from her eyes, and then flushed red as she saw the familiar front of her hotel.  

'Did you think I would disobey Janus's orders?' Kristov smirked.

'No, I just wasn't sure what his orders were,' she snapped as she got out of the car.

'For you,' he thrust a small box at her in an insolent manner, 'He thought you might require it at some point.' He got into the car and drove away.

On shaky legs she walked into the hotel, her finger jabbing impatiently at the button for the lift.  Reaching her floor she stepped out of the lift, and paused, Dmitrov stood at the other end of the corridor, he glanced at her opened his mouth to speak, but numbly she shook her head and fumbled for her key.  Once in she rested against the closed door, drawing in her breath deeply, one hand still clinging onto the box Kristov had forced upon her.  Sweat had broken out on her forehead, she suddenly swayed, and threw the box on the bed, seeing the purple oval bruises on her wrist where he had held her, her stomach flipped over, and she ran for the bathroom.  It was some time before she could stand again, weakly she sat on the edge of the bed, swallowing deeply, trying to get herself under control again.  

Curiousity finally got the better of her, and she opened the box.  She had to bite back sudden scream of hysterical laughter as she saw the small silver automatic pistol that lay there, even a loaded clip waiting just ready to be used.   

'Slightly more original than flowers or chocolates, Alec,' she smiled to herself darkly, and then jumped as there was a violent knock at the door.  Quickly she fumbled open a drawer and rammed the box into it.  As she opened the door, an impatient James burst into the room

'Where the hell have you been?  Dmitrov has just told me he's only just seen you return, we were worried sick when we couldn't find you last night.'

His anger was white hot, and Ashleigh, used to seeing her godfather as the epitome of coolness, never ruffled, never raising his voice was shocked.  Now he stood before her, angry and dominating.

She was still feeling weak, but she stood.  'I've been meeting some very interesting people James.'

'Oh yes?' his tone was dangerous.

'Janus.' She paused to give her words extra effect, enjoying the startled expression that flickered across his face.  'Alec Trevelyan is alive and well and in St. Petersburg.'

'I killed Alec Trevelyan.' He raised a hand.  'He is dead.  You are mistaken.'

'So he would like you to think.  Again.'

'And you spoke with him?  What information do you have to report from Janus?  I'm sure you found plenty to talk about.'

'Yes, I spoke with him.  He believes he is being framed for the Hermes Virus.'

'It's a bloody miracle he didn't kill you.  He's killed for less before.'

She raised her chin defiantly.  'I was treated with the utmost respect.  I think he thought we could help each other.'

James's eyes narrowed.  'Alec always treats women with 'the utmost respect'', he mocked her words.  

'Like you James?' her words were filled with venom.

'I will have nothing to do with that traitor.' James declared, a shard of ice in his voice. 'Neither do I approve of your 'method' of gathering information.'

He could see her crumpled clothes, the dark circles smudged under her eyes, could well recall the way women would fall into Alec's arms, and had no doubt over where his goddaughter had slept the night before.

'I learnt far more on my back last night than either you or Dmitrov,' she hissed, 'as for my method, I think you'll find it's a tried and tested technique, surprisingly common in the world of espionage.  You're not averse to it yourself James, so don't play the innocent virgin with me because it certainly doesn't fit your reputation.'

'You learnt nothing!' Bond was harsh in his words.  'You have no idea what is going on with this case, you put yourself in unnecessary danger for nothing, you stupid girl.  And as for Alec, do you think he wanted you for anything other than the fact that you are my goddaughter?  He'll use you to get to me.'

She frowned, and took a step closer to Bond, drawing herself to her full height.  'I'm well aware that you're withholding information from me, and I'm doing my best under the circumstances to compensate for that.  You'll tell me soon enough, or I'll find out for myself, but I believe you know the identity of the figure we're searching for, so does Dmitrov.  As for Alec, I'm quite capable of realising his motives behind his actions, but I was enjoying myself far too much last night to worry about that.'

She spat the words out, refusing to be intimidated.  For a moment they glared in deadlock at each other, until Ashleigh could bear it no longer, and turned away.

'Caleb Deronda.' James spoke the name barely above a whisper. 

  There was a second knock on the door, and Dmitrov peered around it.  'James? They have found a body in the port.  We are leaving in five minutes.'

James nodded, and turned to leave.  'Caleb Deronda.  You will stay here and find out everything you can about him, and his whereabouts while Dmitrov and I go to the port.'

She was being punished, Ashleigh knew it, but she nodded her assent, the obedient agent once more.  James walked up to her, and she froze, wondering what he was going to do.  Slowly he moved his head close to hers, smelling her hair, first one side, and then moving across her face, his angry eyes inches away from hers, the other.

'You reek of him,' he snarled and stalked out of the room.


	8. Chapter Six

A/N:  Apologies in advance for the technological discrepancies, I invented the device Ashleigh uses as I needed something that would conceal who she was while online… if it's not accurate, or technically possible, or if something similar already exists I do apologise for my lack of knowledge and general laziness for not bothering to research such matters.  It was far too sunny today to do anything like that. 

Also apologies for not being able to show the name of the foundation that Elliot runs, I do have the Russian name for it, but unfortunately not the font on this computer to include it.

*

Ashleigh reached for the case that contained her laptop, all the while muttering under her breath.  She knew it was unprofessional, but her fury at James riled her, and for the moment it didn't matter if she reverted back to a moody teenager, there was no one to hear her as she connected all the necessary cables to the slim silver pocketbook.  She had loved James when she was growing up, her glamourous godfather who occasionally materialised out of thin air to take her to shows, to drive her around in sleek open top cars and brought her perfect presents for a girl on the edge of womanhood.  It hadn't made up for not having her parents around, but with a highly artistic temperamental grandmother and a jet setting godfather her adolescence had at least been entertaining.  

But since her admission to MI6, and her rapid progression through the ranks, their relationship had suffered.   It had been a huge shock for Ashleigh, discovering who her father and godfather really were, their secret lives as 007 and 009.  She longed to follow in their footsteps and had seen this case as an opportunity to further her career.  Now it seemed that James was determined to keep her in the dark at every opportunity, she supposed she should be grateful that he had finally admitted to her who they were after.  It was a pity that it was only after her defiant behaviour that he had done so.  She suppressed a shudder as she remembered the events of the night before.  Her head began to pound once more, and she viciously plugged the adaptor into the machine, pushing the memories away.  Now was not the time for a persuasive Alec to creep into her mind. 

Booting up the laptop, she added the final cable, a small scrambler that would block her IP from being revealed, and secondly allow her into access into protected sites.  The small device would also act like a code breaker working through thousands of passwords and encryption codes to find one that would provide Ashleigh with access.  Standard MI6 issue nowadays, she said a small thanks to Q and headed onto the secure MI6 channels.  

A quick search on Caleb Deronda revealed that precious little was known about him, the Deronda syndicate was a well known underground group operating across the west of Russia, and it were thought that the headquarters was in St. Petersburg, and that he had been operating from their for some time.  Sighing, she settled into the chair, and resigned herself to a long futile search.

*

Dmitrov glanced sideways at the man that drove in a fury through the busy streets of St. Petersburg.  As they rounded a corner in fourth gear, the Russian grabbed onto the dashboard to prevent himself from flying into the door.  The man was angry, he could tell that, but he did not know why, and he wasn't about to cross the levels of professional boundaries to ask why.  However if the risk of dying in this car was increased any time soon he was going to bite the bullet and ask.  

James was in fact more than angry, he was furious, and it was taking all his self control not to drive into the nearest wall just to feel the vicious crunch as the bonnet would crease, to feel the satisfying thud of his head bouncing off the glass windscreen, welcoming the blessed blackness that the impact would bring.  It was unlike James to think this way, but he was consumed by the anger that burned white hot inside him.  And all of it was directed at Alec.

Alec was alive.  The thought pounded around his head.  How the hell could he have survived that fall, the satellite crashing down upon him?  And Ashleigh, how could she have betrayed him in that way?  Falling into bed with him at the first opportunity she had.  Alec had magnetism alright, but it didn't explain why Ashleigh was attracted to him, Christ Alec was only a few years younger than himself.  Alec was alive, and Ashleigh had slept with him, taunting him with that information.  He knew it had been a mistake to allow M to pair them up, he should have recommended that he be assigned else where.

'You are angry with her?' Dmitrov finally ventured, wincing as they nearly collided head on with a taxi.  

'No.' The teeth were gritted though, and Bond was determined not to answer any more questions.  He wanted nothing more than to lose himself in the case, and to never have to think of Trevelyan again.  

'Who is he?  Janus?'

'I would have thought that the Russian spy network would at least be able to work that one out.'  

Dmitrov ignored the jibe.  'To you?  Who is Janus to you?'

'An old friend.'

'And you are angry at Ashleigh?' Missing the sarcasm in the other man's voice, Dmitrov had already decided that the British Secret Service was far too incestuous for its own good.  'Because she slept with your friend?'

'He is not my friend.' James's voice had reverted back to the icy cold tone that could rival the freezing wind that blew straight into the city from the sea.  'He is a traitor, a liar, a thief, and an enemy that will stop at nothing to destroy me.  And up until an hour ago, I was convinced that he was dead.  I knew he was dead, because I killed him.'

There seemed to be little that Dmitrov could say to that.  He decided to cling to the door instead and pray that they reached the docks safely.

The call had come through that morning to Dmitrov, what appeared to be a body floating in the docks… what warranted Dmitrov's and Bond's investigation was that the body appeared to have been dead for some time, and also matched the description of the missing agent.   As they arrived they could already see a crowd gathering around the cordoned off area.  

They fought their way through the mass of people, and peered down into the slate grey water.  The waves had been whipped into an icy swirl by the same wind that ruffled Bond's dark hair.  Two divers were in the water, struggling to contain the body that was floating face down in the bay, buffeted by the breaking waves.  Even through the masks of the divers it was clear they would rather be anywhere else than in this water.  They heaved and kicked their way back to the edge, where three officers helped to drag the deceased man up over the high wall. 

As they headed for where the body had been laid out, a hand reached out, and caught James by the cuff of his overcoat.  Turning, he found himself faced with an attractive blonde woman. Never one to turn away from a pretty woman, even when in his blackest moods, he met her startling aquamarine eyes.

'Excuse me,' she spoke in English, without a trace of an accent, although her heavy coat and fur hut suggested she was up to date with the latest fashions in Russia.  She smiled at him, although it didn't reach her eyes, which were anxiously peering at him through her blonde hair.  'Could you tell me what is happening please?'  She shot a look to where the body had been covered by a dark grey blanket.

James paused, unsure what to say, but wanting to relieve her anxiety.  'A body has been found in the port, that's all that I can tell you.'

'That's perfectly obvious,' she glanced once more in the direction of the body then as a thought seemed to occur to her, she clapped a hand over her mouth.  'Oh god.  It's Gregory Fraser, isn't it?'

'Why would you say that?' James narrowed his eyes and stepped in closer to her, 'And how do you know Fraser?'

She glanced round as if making sure no one was listening, leaning into James she whispered, 'I met him some time ago, we had dinner a few times, but then he vanished, I haven't been able to get in contact with him.'

'What else can you tell me about him?' James met her equally quiet tone, hoping to get more information from her, 'I'm a friend….'

'Bond!' Dmitrov interrupted, 'They are ready for us.'  A quick flash of a badge and Dmitrov had secured access to the body, and he was impatient to get to the body.  

'In a minute,' Bond turned, annoyed by the interruption, a quick flick of his head towards the other man, before he faced the woman once more.  But those few seconds had been all she had needed, and she had vanished into thin air, nowhere to be seen.  Disturbed he peered over the heads of those gathered, hoping to see her moving through the masses, but there was no sign of her. 

*

Ashleigh's search was getting nowhere.  Leaning over she picked up her bottle of water and sipped, rubbing her tired eyes.  She had no idea how long she had been sitting in front of the laptop, but her stomach was growling at her insisting that she got something to eat.  Fifteen more minutes and she would venture outside to find a snack.  

So far nothing had turned up; all she had was a selection of surveillance photos, and the briefest of files on Deronda.  The man was a walking enigma.  She tapped her fingers on the edge of the table as she waited for yet another file to download.  It was another picture, but suddenly she sat forward, this one was different, Deronda had company this time….   

Quickly she highlighted the woman's face and began a search through the files for her identity.  A detailed synopsis was soon pulled up.  A successful business woman and a campaigner for 'good causes'.  Grabbing a pen, Ashleigh scribbled down a few details and grabbed her coat.

*

Bond knelt next to the now covered body, pressing a handkerchief to his nose and mouth.  The stench was awful, the body in some state of decomposition.  Dmitrov gazed down impassively, waiting for Bond.  With a swift movement he pulled the blanket back, and the stench assaulted them with a fresh stronger attempt.

It had been clear that Fraser had been dead for some time, and his body submerged for God knows how long.  Bond took in the single, now puckered and dimpled gunshot wound to the head, and decided that that might be the clue that Fraser had been murdered.  He had known the dead agent for some time, never socially, rarely seeing him within the Service, Fraser was one of the foreign boys, and had been linked with Russia only recently.  An arrogant pompous prick was how Bond recalled him, with a penchant for blazers and overly large cufflinks.  Thought he was rather debonair by all accounts, and had a way with the ladies.  Bond had seen agents like that come and go, and here was another dead one.  Stupid bastard had gotten himself killed on a case, and it was up to Bond to find out why.  There was no denying it was him, the navy blazer, the old school tie, with the flashy tie clip, Bond could have recognised him by these even if the body had decayed further.  Unfortunately the swarthy fleshy face was still recognisable, even if it did have a slightly…nibbled look about it.

'It's Fraser?' Dmitrov asked, lighting another cigarette.  

'Without a doubt.' Bond stood, once more glancing around at the crowd in the vain hope he might spot the mystery blonde.  

'And now we find who killed him?'

'Now we find who killed him.' Bond agreed grimly.  'You know Vasili, if I didn't know better; I'd say you've done this before.'

Dmitrov grinned and followed the broad back of the English spy as he weaved his way through the crowd once more.

*

The weather outside had not improved, if anything it had worsened.  The cab driver peered through the brief glimpses of the road provided by the sweep of the windscreen wipers and hoped for the best.  The thick snow was falling heavily, and more had been forecast.  It wouldn't last long, the salt in the air would help to melt it but it was a nuisance until then.

'Is there any chance you could hurry up?' Ashleigh leaned forward, 'I must make it to the business district before it closes.'

The driver muttered something about going as quick as he could, but at least it prompted him to jerk into another faster moving lane.  Ashleigh leaned back in her seat and glanced down at herself, her dark wool coat over her shirt and trousers were definitely appropriate enough for this trip.  It just needed the right attitude to work.

At Elliot Enterprises Rebekah was bored.  Ms. Elliot had been out of the office all day, and all Rebekah had been doing was diverting her calls, and typing up letters and faxes.  She glanced at the clock above the door; there was an hour before she could leave.  She sighed and went back to readjusting the paperwork behind the large modern semi circular desk.  Nearby the floor to ceiling oak doors of Ms. Elliot's office remained firmly shut.

The ping of the lift therefore startled her, and as the doors slid open she grabbed a file and a pen and looked busy.  She glanced up at the woman who walked from the small mirrored lift, well dressed in an expensive looking coat, and high heeled leather boots.  Her dark hair was well cut, and she strode confidently towards the desk.

'I have an appointment with Ms. Elliot,' she announced in good Russian.  

'Ms. Elliot does not have any appointments this afternoon.' Rebekah replied sulkily, barely looking up from the file.  

'Ms. Elliot contacted me personally, and arranged the meeting herself.  Now if you will tell her that Elizabeth Vaughn has arrived please.'

'Ms. Elliot did not inform me of any such meeting, Miss Vaughn,' the receptionist struggled slightly over the name.  'And she is not in her office to receive you.'

'There must be some mistake.' The Vaughn woman was politely insistent, but there was a steel edge to her voice.  

'There is no mistake.'  Rebekah despised her job enough without arrogant foreign business women adding to it.  She once more opened the file and studiously ignored the dark haired woman.

Ashleigh was having fun.  Leaning over the desk she tugged the file firmly from the other woman's hands.  'I've travelled a long way for this meeting, and I want to know why Ms. Elliot is unavailable.  I'm meant to discuss a rather large account with her, and if I do not get an explanation soon, I'm going to get back into that lift and take the account to your nearest rivals.  I'm sure Ms. Elliot would be upset to lose such valuable business as my company's.'

Rebekah knew she was beaten.  If this woman walked away and such an important account was lost, and it was traced back to her, well, she'd lose her job, and despite hating it, that was the last thing she wanted.  With a lethal glare at Miss Vaughn she got slowly to her feet.  'I'll see if one of the senior partners is available to talk to you, Miss Vaughn.'

'You do that.'  Ashleigh moved over to one of the large navy sofas that were outside the office.  'I'll wait right here for you.  And I'd like some coffee while you're at it.  Black, no sugar.'  

Ashleigh gave a slow sarcastic smile, and watched with a small amount of pleasure as the sullen receptionist stepped into the lift.  As the doors closed Ashleigh counted to fifteen, and then leapt to her feet, she didn't have much time.

Like a thief she slunk into the expensive office of Lucinda Elliot, her aim entirely on the computer, impatiently she booted it up, her heart  in her mouth, constantly glancing up at the door.  She had a matter of minutes.  It seemed to take for ever before she was presented with a desktop, and she scanned the list of files eagerly.  It was all company related, there had to be something, had to be.  Frustrated she clicked on one of the files, to be presented with a request for a password.  Damnit.  She had expected this, and tugged the small device she had used earlier from her pocket.  

The small machine clicked and whirled as it scanned through the many options… this was taking too long… far too long, and Ashleigh began to panic.  Please, oh please she begged it silently, the only sound in the room was the device and the agitated tap of the heel of her boot against the wooden floor.  Her gloved fingers rested against the keyboard, eager to work.  She glanced through the open door towards the lift, and saw that the lift was slowly ascending towards the top floor… this wasn't good.  In frustration she yanked the device out of the port and shut down the machine, her fingers fumbling in their anxiety, her heart pounding.  There was nothing to be had here from this machine, she could feel a trickle of nervous sweat sliding down between her shoulder blades, and she bit her lip to stop herself from verbally venting her frustration – her knowledge of Russian swearwords had to be heard to be believed.  She hurried through the office doors back into the reception area, and as she passed the desk, she froze.

A series of four monitors were built into the desk, and on the top right one the surly secretary could be seen heading towards this floor in the lift with two men – one suited and distinguished looking, the other most definitely a security guard.  It seemed the receptionist was a suspicious type.  She had to act now, and quickly.  

Casting wildly round the room for something that would help her she suddenly saw her escape route and said a silent prayer to whoever it was that was the patron saint of awkward situations.  A fire alarm was nearby, and on the other side of the room a fire escape door.  Ashleigh pulled the lever… and a horrible wailing filled the room.  A quick glance at the monitors confirmed what she had hoped would happen, the lift had stopped at the next floor; Ashleigh could see the guard glancing round in confusion as the doors opened on the wrong floor, and the woman mouthing in anger.  Ashleigh smiled; well that was a piece of luck.

Her second piece of luck came moments later; her eyes fell upon an open diary half pushed under a pile of paper work.  It appeared to be full of Elliot's engagements, and as if taunting her with its simplicity, Ashleigh suddenly had her connection.  With a small cry of triumph she reached for a pen and paper, scribbled down what she needed and headed for the fire escape.

She joined the mass exodus from the building three floors down, keeping her head down, and avoiding eye contact until she made it to the ground floor.  A small smile played around her lips, even the horrendous sound of the fire alarm couldn't deter from her pleasure.

It didn't matter that the temperature had dropped even further outside, or that the snow was rapidly turning into churned up slush and ice beneath her boots causing her to slip and slide all over the place, Ashleigh was buoyed up by the feeling that she had finally made a breakthrough and she wanted to bask in it for a while before she had to make the inevitable phonecall.  It would have to be done though and so with a martyred look on her face she took out her mobile.

It seemed to ring forever, so much so that Ashleigh began to believe that James wasn't actually going to pick up.  With an impatient little sigh she rolled her eyes to heaven and began to mentally curse the pigheaded sod. 

Finally there was a click of connection, and a frosty 'Yes?'

She had been expecting coldness, but this was ridiculous.  'I have something.  Is the line secure?'

'Of course it is.'

'Is Dmitrov with you?'  She politely ignored the scorn in his voice.

'Yes.'

'Ask if there is anything special happening at Mariinsky Theatre tomorrow night.'

Bond knew better than to ask why, there was always method in an agent's madness.  He turned to the Russian in the passenger seat.  'What's happening at the Mariinsky tomorrow night?'

'It is one of the biggest events in the year, a charity event, a highly exclusive ballet performance.'

Bond nodded.  'Did you hear that?'

Ashleigh once more felt the satisfaction of everything falling into place.  She quietly spoke a single word in Russian.

James's Russian was good, but the term was unfamiliar to him.

'It's the name of the charity that Lucinda Elliot patronises, its her event at the Mariinsky tomorrow, and I think that Deronda will be there.'

'That's a wild leap Ashleigh.  Why?'

'You're known for some pretty wild leaps yourself.  But this one is grounded in literature.  The name of Elliot's charity roughly translates as 'Middlemarch'.

Ashleigh could almost hear James making the same connection as she had, as she knew he would.  'And the author of 'Middlemarch' was George Eliot.  Who also wrote 'Daniel Deronda'.  It's almost too obvious.'  She could hear him getting reading to dismiss it.

'Do you have anything else to work on?' Ashleigh asked softly.  

'No,' James admitted, feeling the frustration rise once more at the lack of intelligence they had about the case.  'What does the charity do?'

'I've no idea,' Ashleigh had to confess.  

Bond turned once more to Dmitrov who had been quietly listening to the direction that the conversation was taking.  Dmitrov nodded, 'I believe its something to do with developing cures for childhood diseases.  But there are few links between Deronda and Elliot.'

'But a perfect cover up for creating a biological virus would indeed be a research centre for curing children's diseases.' James felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as the thrill of the chase was realised.  'We're going to the ballet tomorrow night.'

And on the other end of the phone Ashleigh smiled.  


	9. Chapter Seven

Vaskov was an intelligent man according to all reports. However pride and intelligence do not always go hand in hand at times, and that day he was showing little of his intelligent side. He fingered the thick cream envelope - he had always attended this event, and a few threats on his life and concern for his safety did not warrant staying away from such a public event. In fact it had been a miracle he had agreed to any security measures at all. He was an important man, at least he liked to think he was, and it would do his reputation no harm if he had to be seen with a few bodyguards. After all, most of the high ranking politicians had them.   
  
He mused this thought and others involving his plans for government for a few moments. It was a matter of principle, he decided, to go to this event. He would not let it be said in the media that Vaskov was a coward. Of course, they wouldn't, he amended, there was no knowledge within the press of the increased security around the Russian Minister. They were not aware of biological weapons, and other such threats, it was mere speculation to them. He puffed his chest out at the thought in his involvement in such a sensitive situation, they would know that Vaskov was no mere junior minister to be trifled with and threatened. He would not play such silly games.   
  
Of course, it would be better if he could be seen with a few of those large oafs that paraded around in sunglasses, muttering into radios and denying people access to their precious ward. However low key was the idea according to his security advisor, who had nearly had heart attack when informed that Vaskov still intended to attend the ballet that evening. Low key, and British. A sneer came onto the Minister's rather weak upper lip. British Secret Service. Ha. What did the British know about security, they were as bad as those blasted Americans, with their involvement in the Cold War and silly passwords and secret agents. No, he thought, the KGB had been a far more organised operation. He sighed, damn political diplomacy. Damn the British, damn their secret agents, he would not be ordered around by some silly stiff upper lipped, tea drinking, ex public school boy Englishman. Even if he was accompanied by Vasili Dmitrov. This was at least agreeable to the Minister, Dmitrov was a well known and hard working agent, he could be trusted to keep the English in line and in deference to Vaskov and his power.   
  
Vaskov leaned back in his expensive leather chair and cracked his knuckles. He was rather looking forward to tonight. He had always fancied his chances with Lucinda Elliot as well, perhaps tonight his luck would be in.   
  
The Cold War might have finished a decade earlier, but it still waged between Bond and Ashleigh. Suspending hostilities for the evening at least, Bond, suave and dark in a beautifully cut dinner jacket, took her arm as she stepped from the car and onto the steps below the Mariinsky. Looking up at the pretty pastel building, and feeling the night air surround her, Ashleigh gave a small shiver of anticipation. James felt it, and glanced down at his goddaughter, seeing her burn with an inner glow he had never seen before. Pale coffee coloured satin slid from one shoulder to fall to the ground, skimming over her curves, her other shoulder, left bare was suddenly dotted with goosebumps that were not down to the cold. She pulled her sheer gold wrap tighter around her, not noticing the admiring glances from the men nearby. Breathing in James could smell a rich warm scent unlike the cool perfume she usually wore, and the heat of her skin intensified it until it surrounded him, her cheeks were flushed and her dark eyes glittered. Quickly, making sure she was safely footed on the slippery steps, James dropped her arm as if it would burn him, he had never seen Ashleigh like this before, languorous and intoxicating, her sensuality on display for every man to see. It was a far cry from the child he had known and he could not meet her hazy eyes. Disturbed he stepped back away from her, letting Dmitrov and Ashleigh enter the building first.   
  
The plan was to separate. Dmitrov and Bond would sit in a private box, observing everything and watching for Deronda. Ashleigh, posing as the Russian Minister's escort, would sit with him in the Grand Circle where they could be seen, but would be safer than the exposed boxes or stalls.   
  
The lights dimmed and as the music soared Ashleigh's heart gave a sudden leap. Prokofiev's 'Romeo and Juliet', the opening movement soothing her with its familiarity, the dancers suddenly pouring onto stage graceful and bewitching. She loved the ballet as it was but tonight the music entered her heart and pumped through her veins.   
  
She tried to ignore Vaskov sitting closely beside her. He was a particularly nervous and highly strung man, but with an arrogance that grated upon Ashleigh's nerves. Tall and thin with a straggly black mustache and black hair that threatened to turn greasy at any moment he made up for his lack of bulk with his inflated sense of self importance. Viewing Ashleigh as nothing more than one of his minor employees, and a female one at that, he had been making derogatory marks, and several sexist ones since she had introduced herself to him earlier. In a surprisingly loud voice he continued an anti British rant in the car, and had continued as they had round their seats. Sorely tempted to deck him and prove what a 'thin little thing' like her could do, Ashleigh gritted her teeth as his hand stole onto her thigh once more. Firmly she removed it, shot him a look filled with daggers and once more lost herself in the music.   
  
Her favourite movement was starting, the theme of the Montagues and Capulets with its heavy evocative strings and the heavy bass of the oboes, and Ashleigh, moving her legs deftly away from the minister sat back and let the music surround her. But for some reason she couldn't enjoy it. She felt as if she was being watched, and it unsettled her. With a frown she tried to shake the sensation off, but it stayed, a prickling at the top of her spine.   
  
Ashleigh was being watched. In a secluded box a pair of eyes was trained on her, staring in grim fascination and admiration at the young woman. Surrounded by the wrinkled crones of St. Petersburg in the Grand Circle she stood out. Her amber eyes suddenly flickered round, and he stepped back into the shadows, until he saw her look away and toy with the edge of her wrap. It was no time to be admiring foreign females though, and he focused on the job at hand, drawing his attention back to her companion.  
  
One of the first lessons that she had learnt at MI6 was to trust her instincts. There were many things in the world that could not be explained and an agent had to believe in their own hunches, and act upon them. Bond was a good example of this, and now Ashleigh suddenly felt extremely nervous. All the beauty of the ballet had faded away, instead the dancers seemed to parade a series of grotesque shapes and figures before her, as their bodies crumpled to the floor in the dance of death. The music screeched in her eyes, no longer beautiful but a funeral wail. Her skin continued to prickle and a light sweat broke out on her skin. Leaning towards Vaskov she murmured softly in his ear.  
  
'We must move. We must get away from here. When I stand, follow me.'  
  
He turned to glare at her. 'Don't be stupid girl.'  
  
Clenching her fists in frustration Ashleigh continued to cajole. 'Something isn't right, we must go now.'  
  
Vaskov looked at the young woman next to him, and composed his features into what he hoped was one of paternal knowledge. To Ashleigh it came across as patronising and ever so slightly leering. 'No one is going to attempt to do anything here, not on such an important night. You British are all the same, paranoid. No stop being a silly little girl and enjoy the ballet.'  
  
He gave her a small smile that was meant to reassure her, after all she wasn't an unattractive girl, he didn't want to upset her too much. However he realised his audience was lost, she was staring at his chest in horror.  
  
'Duck, now!' she hissed frantically, grabbing his hand and trying to pull him forward.  
  
If he had let her pull him down he might have survived. Instead, glancing at his chest he saw a dancing red light flickering over his heart. There was a dull thud, and he slumped backwards in his chair.   
  
Ashleigh stared in horror at the dead man in the seat next to her. It was too dimly lit in the theatre for the blood that was spreading across his chest to be seen as nothing more than a dark slightly glistening wet patch. She threw herself forward, reaching for her small beaded bag, praying that the person in front of her and their seat would cover her from the next bullet.  
  
Her heart was thudding so loud she was sure that it would be drowning out the music by now. Her mouth was dry as she slowly counted to twenty, praying that the moment she sat up a bullet wouldn't tear into her. She grabbed her bag, and tentatively sat up. She leaned toward the woman next to her, and spoke quietly in Russian.  
  
'Would you mind keeping an eye on my companion please? He does find the ballet a bore and has fallen asleep. If he wakes up would you mind telling him I've just gone to the bathroom?'  
  
The rather plump middle aged woman in an expensive black dress decorated with peacock feathers smiled at the pretty young lady next to her, her accented Russian polite and charming. Glancing at her face she noticed the girl had gone deathly pale, and seemed to be trembling. The woman nodded, 'Of course, my dear,' then as Ashleigh stood and shakily made to move past the woman she placed a hand on the girl's wrist. 'Are you feeling alright?' she asked concerned.  
  
Ashleigh swallowed, feeling panic rise within her once more, desperate to get away from the Circle. She forced herself to be calm. 'Yes, thank you, it's just the heat...' her voice trailed off, and the woman nodded her agreement and let the girl go. She always thought these theatres got far too overheated, and a young girl with a delicate composition could well feel woozy in such a long performance. The woman's mind was drawn away from the young foreign woman as Tybalt swept arrogantly onto the stage below.   
  
Panic was still threatening to swap her. She had abandoned her wrap in the Circle, and was now desperately searching for Bond and Dmitrov. She couldn't remember what number the Box was that they were in, and in her frantic state she couldn't calm herself down enough to recall it. Hearing a noise behind her she slunk into the shadows and fumbled in her bag, drawing out the small silver pistol Alec had given her.   
  
She let her breath out in a rush, as she saw her follower was nothing more than one of the many stewards that worked at the theatre. She tucked the gun into the fold of her skirt, and stepped out into the light.  
  
'Mademoiselle?' the young man asked, 'Can I help you?'  
  
'Oh can you?' she said breathlessly, trying to make herself seem as helpless as possible. 'I've managed to get myself lost trying to get back to my box. You couldn't possibly tell me which way it is?'  
  
He gave her a strange look, and she gritted her teeth knowing how flimsy it sounded even to her own ears, but caught on the hop it was the best she could do. She blushed as he pointed out a rather obvious sign directing her to the boxes and to the various levels of the theatre.  
  
'If you follow those stairs, you should find yourself in the correct place. I could escort you if you wish...' The steward looked like he'd rather not.  
  
'Oh, no, I'll be fine from here, silly me,' she gave a weak smile and hurried off in the direction of the boxes before he could think she was even more insane than she appeared.  
  
Ashleigh hated the eerie sensation of the deserted corridors within the theatre. She edged along the empty passageways, gun tucked away out of sight, but ready for use at any moment. She suddenly had a horrible feeling that she had taken a wrong turning somewhere, because rather than finding herself in more populated areas it actually seemed to be getting quieter. She could hear the muffled noise of the performance below, but it seemed to be getting further away with every step she took. Maybe she had climbed too high, there were a few boxes up here, but they were few and far apart. Slowly she approached a door and clicked it open, peering into the emptiness inside.   
  
Nothing. Peering over the edge of the box she realised she was much higher above the stage than she expected, all was quiet below her, no one appeared to have noticed the dead man sitting among them as the masses watched the show. Silently she headed back into the corridor, and for the next door.  
  
Cautiously she reached for the handle, just before she touched it she glanced up and down the empty hallway just in case, convinced she was being watched. Letting her breath out in a rush she made to turn the handle.  
  
Before she could the door flew open, strong hands were grabbing her and pulling her into the darkness beyond, one hand over her mouth, another arm clamping her arms to her sides, she froze, letting herself be dragged in, feigning obedience, until the arms loosened slightly. With a quick action she stamped down, feeling the kitten heel of her shoe scrape down a shin, there was a muffled curse, and she was half released, half thrown against the far wall of the box.   
  
Her senses were reeling, blinded by the sudden plunge into the dark she blinked, trying to focus, she breathed deeply and was surrounded by a cool familiar scent. A figure stood opposite her, and as her eyes adjusted she could see they were holding a gun. Even in this light she could tell they were far taller and stronger than her.   
  
An all too recognisable voice spoke out into the darkness.   
  
'We really must stop meeting like this.' 


	10. Chapter Eight

Fighting back several urges at once, one of them being to throw herself into his arms, another being to hit him very hard indeed, Ashleigh glared at Alec Trevelyan.   
  
'Don't point that thing at me,' she snarled.  
  
He glanced down at the automatic weapon he was aiming straight at her chest. 'Oh I think I will for a while,' he said with a dark smile in his voice. 'Since we find ourselves in a very awkward situation.'  
  
As if teasing her he leveled the gun and stared down the viewfinder at her, his cold grey eyes unblinking, a mocking smile on his scarred face.  
  
Ashleigh nervously licked her lips, feeling how dry they were. She tried to stand as still as possible, but she nervously rubbed her fingers against the palms of her hands, her eyes darting between the door and his cruel gaze.   
  
'Bang!' he suddenly said, and laughed as Ashleigh jumped back against the wall behind her. Her hands pressed back against it, and her entire body slumped in shock.  
  
'Bastard,' she hissed, and found her voice was cracked, she swallowed and tried again, 'You bastard!'  
  
He seemed determined to sneer at her, and lowering the gun he raised a dark blond eyebrow at her. 'After everything we've been through...' Taking her hand he pulled her closer to him, 'Walk away now. Turn and walk out the door, mention to no one that you saw me, and you'll be safe.'  
  
'How do I know the second I turn my back you're not going to put a bullet in it?'  
  
'Because you're not my intended target.' He had become disinterested in her, instead loading the submachine gun with a new clip.  
  
'No, I'm not because you've already taken out your 'intended target'. He's sitting dead in the Grand Circle with the rest of the audience thinking he's a philistine who sleeps through the ballet!' She spat the words, feeling her voice tinged with hysteria as she suddenly realised what a screwed situation she was in.   
  
Confusion flickered on his face for a moment, gone as quickly as it had been there, and it was this moment of doubt that threw her.  
  
'What?' she asked peering at him through her fringe, 'You did come here to kill Vaskov?'  
  
'Vaskov?' he gave a hollow laugh, relief showing on his face, "You think I would waste my time on a jumped up little prick like Vaskov?'  
  
The blood ran from her face as she saw the sudden flash of fire within his eyes, 'James?' she said in horror, and using all her strength she tried to pull away, to get out of the small confined room and run to find James, to warn him.  
  
He held her tightly, pulling her back to him, crushing her up against him so he could whisper in her ear.  
  
'I'm not here for James, although that would give me great... pleasure,' he lingered on the word, and against her better judgment the feel of his warm breath against her ear, and the strength of his body against her back caused a tingle to spread over her body and she quelled the urge to press back against him, 'I'm here for Deronda.'  
  
She jerked away from him again. 'What do you know about Deronda? Is he here?'  
  
He steadfastly refused to answer, but the way his finger twitched towards the trigger suggested that perhaps he was. It still didn't give Ashleigh the concrete confirmation she needed. 'We've had this conversation before.'  
  
'So we're both after the same man, Caleb Deronda. Shall we say it was him who took out Vaskov?'  
  
'I mean it Kain,' his gaze was like ice once more, and just as penetrating, 'Turn around and walk away. Get out of this while you still can.'  
  
'No.' Her temper was always quick to rise. 'I'm trying to do a job here, I've already let Vaskov get killed....'  
  
'As I said before - no great loss. There are people out to kill tonight, already have, and you're small fry. If you get in the way they won't hesitate to remove you. And if you continue to try and hinder me - I'll be tempted....'  
  
He never finished his threat, instead both of them jumped as there was a gunshot below them. For a second silence reigned, and the pair of them stared at each other. Then the screaming started, and Alec cursed.   
  
'Its too late, trouble's started, we have to get out of here.' He grabbed at her again, but she stubbornly stepped outside.  
  
'Now it's 'we'.' She crossed her arms and glared at him. 'I believe you were just threatening to kill me.'  
  
'This is not the time for games,' his fingers dug into the soft flesh of her upper arm, 'Get out now...'  
  
Just to emphasise the menace in his voice, he dug the barrel of the gun into her ribs. 'Out, now...'  
  
Ashleigh found herself being guided down the back corridors of the theatre, Alec holding her firmly. She had thought that would be going to be finding an exit but for some reason they were climbing higher into the building. She suddenly had a very bad feeling, and a terrible taste formed in her mouth, Alec was going to kill her, but somewhere where nobody would find her, in the rafters of the theatre. She gave a small moan at the thought, and he turned at the sound.   
  
'Just keep moving,' he instructed. 'No arguing.' His tone was flat, dead, as she would be soon. The irrational, or was it completely irrational she didn't know, fear began to swamp her, and she wished she could break free but the gun was painfully lodged in her side, and Alec had no intention of letting her go anywhere.  
  
She found herself pushed into a dark corridor, at the end of it stood two men, dressed in black. She checked and pushed back against Alec, feeling the solid mass of his body, she tried to twist away hating herself for showing cowardice, but he tightened his arm around her. In a low undertone he whispered, 'Its alright, they're with me.'   
  
She looked up at him in shock, surprised at the first piece of kindness he had shown her since they had laid eyes on each other again. She suddenly had a flashing memory of his gentle whispering in her ear in his bed, and colour rose in her cheeks, she had to look at the floor away from his strong jaw and stony face. Stop it, she scolded herself, this was not the time to remember things like that.   
  
Alec nodded at the two of them, and then barked in Russian, 'Make a distraction.' He continued dragging her along with him until they reached a nondescript doorway. 'In there.'  
  
'Where are we going?' she asked. He looked at her as if she was mad for expecting an answer, and opening the door, he took the lead in. She stumbled after him, once more plunged into complete and utter darkness, the low roof and uneven surface suggested to her that she was in one of the many walkways for the theatrical technicians. Wherever she was, she was cold, disorientated, frightened and tripping over everything in sight. Or not as the case might be, it couldn't possibly get any darker. The satin of her dress brushed against the skin of her legs, she could hear it's gentle swishing noise as she moved. Alec was nothing but a black shape ahead of her, her only contact with him was the fact that she was clinging onto his hand for dear life, he was nearly pulling her along with him. She wondered if he could see any better than she could, or whether it was just brazen confidence that made sure he found his footing safely.   
  
More gunshots were ringing out below. 'Jesus,' she whispered, 'What the hell is happening down there?'  
  
She could vaguely see him turning his head back towards her. 'You heard about what happened at that theatre in Moscow?'  
  
'Yes,' she remembered it well, the siege and the eventual use of chemicals to overcome the terrorists. And a large number of the audience. 'You don't think Deronda means to try out Hermes here?'  
  
'Don't be stupid.' It was the second time a man had said that to her that night and she stiffened. 'Deronda won't risk that yet. He knows when to use Hermes, and when he does, we can say goodbye to this world. No, he's using this as intimidation, and to remove Vaskov from the equation. And if he knew that Vaskov was here, then he knows who was protecting....' His voice trailed off as he realised what he was about to say, he didn't see Ashleigh's brow furrow, he was saying James and Dmitrov was at risk, hell, she was at risk, but she was used to it. She shrugged, and Alec could just make out the up and down movement of her pale shoulders. 'Careful, there's a couple of steps here.'  
  
He helped her over them. She was following him now with some trepidation, and she felt the flicker of fear in her stomach start up again, she was here with Janus, who had admitted to her that his sole purpose for being here was murder, Bond had no idea where she was. 'Will you please tell me where we're going?'  
  
'There should be a way of getting to the stage door from here.'  
  
'And then?'  
  
Silence. She knew he's heard her, instead he ignored her, and stopped, seemingly searching for something. 'Step back' he ordered her. She did, and he reached down and pulled open a trapdoor. 'You first.'  
  
She had no choice, carefully she skirted round it and found a thin ladder. It wasn't recommended climbing in an evening dress and kitten heels, but she would have to make do. It was a struggle, but she finally found herself at the top of a narrow flight of wooden stairs, Alec following soon after. Somehow they made it down those stairs, half expecting to meet a troop of armed terrorists coming in the opposite direction. At the bottom, they rounded a corner, Ashleigh had the impression that they were near the back of the stage, but no longer were the orchestra playing, no longer would dancers be acting one of the most beautiful love stories ever written, instead the evening had descended into horror and fear.  
  
'Have they evacuated?' There was almost an eerie silence from the theatre.   
  
'I hope so,' Alec said grimly, 'Otherwise Deronda is planning a massacre.'  
  
And James was still in there, Ashleigh felt a stab of pain at the thought. She glanced back inside as she was thrust outside into the night air. A black Mercedes was waiting, the windows blacked out, as Alec approached a man got out from the driver's seat and opened the door to the back. Glancing around, Alec quickly concealed the automatic weapon inside, and without looking at her, made to get in himself.  
  
'Wait!' she cried out suddenly. He turned to her, saw her shivering in the night, her arms wrapped round herself trying to keep out the cold, she was hopelessly underdressed for the bitter night air. Alec in a dark suit and shirt could feel the cold biting into him and paused.  
  
'Are you just going to leave me here?' she asked, temper barely controlled. 'Or should I head back in just for the hell of it? I do love to be in the centre of a good terrorist attack.'  
  
Her sarcasm washed over him. He just stared at her.  
  
'You owe me answers.' Her voice was rising, like the frosty night breeze.  
  
'I owe you nothing.'  
  
'Yes you fucking do! What the hell is going on? Why won't anyone tell me anything? You know something about this and I want you to give me answers.'  
  
He turned and slid into the car. He didn't close the door. It was the closest she was going to get to an invitation. She followed, and found herself once more alone with Alec Trevelyan. He had been right. They had to stop meeting like this. 


	11. Chapter Nine

Ashleigh sat huddled in the corner of the Mercedes, pressed up as close against the window. It was as far away as she could get from her companion. She was silent and beginning to wish she had never followed Alec into the car. The streets rushed by, the lights began to fade as they left the outskirts of the city.   
  
The blacked out windows of the Mercedes raised no comment from those it passed, they were still a common sight after the communism of recent years. A screen divided the rear from the driver, it was as if Ashleigh was alone, alone with Alec.  
  
Alone. The thought repeated itself as the engine purred. Alone with Alec. In the past forty-eight hours how many times had this man flickered into her consciousness? Once? Twice? More than that? She had definitely enjoyed herself in his bed, despite the horrible guilt she had suffered since, but as one of her friends advised her, good sex didn't equal love. Just because you were compatible in the bedroom, didn't mean that you had to fall in love straight away.   
  
She had to stop thinking like that immediately. This was business. She glanced up at the piercingly bright stars, and prayed that James and Dmitrov were alright.  
  
Quickly she risked a glance in his direction. He had a strong profile, the dim light of the moon making hair as bright as silver, his expression was grim as he stared ahead, refusing to look at her or acknowledge her. The tension burned between them. His scars were not visible from here, instead she saw the grooves beginning to dent his skin at the corner of his eyes, the side of his mouth, it was as if he had been carved from stone. His hair was shorter than the pictures she had seen of him at MI6, and it helped to make him look younger. She was still attracted to him, and again the confusion swam around her, making her dizzy, desire combined with hate. Hadn't someone once said there was a fine line between the two? She couldn't remember whom.   
  
The silence was suffocating her.  
  
'I don't know why I got in this car. I can't trust you,' she was trying not to panic.  
  
It was as if he had only just noticed she was there. Leaning over he fingered the heavy silver pendant around her neck. 'I'm not asking you to trust me.'  
  
She thought she saw a flicker in his eyes that could have been desire as his fingers brushed the soft skin of her throat. Her baser urges wanted to slide across the seat into his arms, instead she moved away from his touch and stared out of the window.  
  
'Why didn't you try to stop me? Why did you let me come with you?' She hated her pathetic self for having to ask.  
  
'I'm not in the habit of leaving unarmed young women to face their deaths.'  
  
'My death?'  
  
'Either at the hands of Deronda's men, or from the cold. Delightful as that dress is, its not suitable for the cold of the Russian night.'  
  
Oh he could be smooth when he wanted to be, like James could, turning on the charm effortlessly, and now she felt his eyes scan over her, or at least she thought she did. Colouring, she pulled the small pistol from her bag. 'Hardly unarmed.'  
  
He took it from her, examining it, testing the weight in his hands, the eye line along the barrel. 'Oh yes, this,' he scoffed, 'You'd have died before you had even managed to get the safety off. Whoever was in there knew what they were doing.'  
  
'You could have left me there.'  
  
'I could have.' He seemed to be thinking her words over, 'But I didn't.'  
  
'This isn't right,' she murmured.   
  
He shrugged and resumed staring out of the window.   
  
'James wasn't best pleased to discover that you were alive. He would far rather you were still dead. I should want you dead. Surely my first duty to my country should be to kill you...' she was thinking aloud, her thoughts rambling softly.  
  
'Are those your orders?' he asked sharply, and then said when she shook her head, 'Then put that thought out of your head. I'm not the important one here.'  
  
Ashleigh was silent, lines of worry crossing her brow. Alec was surprised to find himself concerned. 'James?'   
  
'Yes'. It was barely a whisper.  
  
'He'll survive. He always does.' His words were harsher than he had meant. 'He means much to you?'  
  
'He's my godfather, apart from my grandmother, the only family I have. And by getting into this car I'm betraying him. By being with you I'm betraying him, when I think of you, when we...' she paused, the words hanging unspoken but understood in the air. She shook her head imperceptibly. 'Every time.'  
  
The bitterness that welled within him threatened to overflow. 'James is no stranger to betrayal.'  
  
He saw the anger flare, she knew what he was referring to.   
  
'James thought you were dead! He saw you shot at point blank range. Executed! He didn't know it was all an elaborate plot, that you were alive and cosily tucked up with your new best friends. He returned to MI6 a haunted man, spoke at your memorial of how he failed you. He was devastated.'  
  
'He did fail me.'  
  
'Not how you think!' When he found you were alive three years ago the hardest thing he ever had to do was to kill you. Because when he did, he killed a part of himself.' Her hands were clenched so tightly he could see her nails cutting into her soft palms.  
  
'It was always duty with James.'  
  
'Why not?' she span round to face him, anger no longer disguised or held back. 'What else did he have, Alec? His mission was his world, as it was yours when you weren't plotting your revenge!'  
  
'And what about you?' she thought she saw jealousy flicker across his granite like face. 'He had you...'  
  
Shock coursed through her, and for a moment she wondered if she had misread what he was implying... but the way he sat so still waiting for her answer made her doubt it.  
  
'James and I?' She couldn't keep an incredulous laugh from creeping in. 'No. Never. Unlike you.' She didn't mean for that jibe to slip in, but it was there, 'But James does understand what it is like to lose your parents at a young age. As do you I suppose. James was my parents' best friend, my glamourous jet setting godfather, someone to talk to when I lost my mother, some one to comfort me when my father was killed.'  
  
It seemed that talk of her parents was unsettling him, and it was no wonder for Alec Trevelyan, along with James Bond, had been one of her father's closest friends and colleagues.   
  
'Your father was a brave man.'  
  
Sadly she said, 'So I've heard. He spoke highly of you, I remember that. He admired your determination. As I do.'  
  
Alec was staring at her with an unreadable expression. Once more she felt a tremor of desire for him.   
  
Silence fell in the car again.  
  
The last time Ashleigh had been here she had had no opportunity to see the outside. Now as they drove along a moonlit drive she could see a large dark gothic house, very Wuthering Heights she decided, set within the wilds of a forest. To the right she could see the dark outline of a lake. She shivered, it was an eerie and oppressive building.  
  
Once more she found herself in Alec's private chambers. With its heavily shaded lighting and dark leather sofas it suited Alec, and he seemed most comfortable here. Unnerved by the bed, wondering why Alec had brought her here, she couldn't relax, instead she prowled around jumping at every single noise.   
  
Alec on the other hand was calm and collected and had produced a bottle of vodka and two small glasses. She watched the condensation run down the frosted sides of the bottle, Alec obviously subscribed to the Russian philosophy that vodka should be drunk as cold as possible. He poured two glasses, handing one silently to her before sitting back on one of the sofas. One leg was idly resting on his other knee, his jacket removed, tie discarded, shirt collar loosened. One arm was thrown along the back of the sofa, his face half in shadow and he was watching her.   
  
Nervously she leant back against the windowsill, surrounded by the darkness, and sipped her drink, letting the fire of the vodka burn her throat and turn her stomach to ice. With a sharp clink she fumbled the glass as she set it down, trying to get her nerves back under control.  
  
'I thought you wanted answers.'  
  
It was as if the Devil was tempting her in the desert. Trying to be nonchalant, she shrugged.   
  
'Deronda and Elliot. Am I right? Is there a connection?'  
  
His grey eyes glittered. 'Almost certainly. Lucinda's more than likely financing him. She's a power hungry bitch, desperate for money and sex. The two things that make the world go round'  
  
Ignoring the little aside she asked, 'Lucinda is his lover?'  
  
'Deronda is one of her many lovers,' subtly he pointed out the difference.  
  
'What's Deronda to you?'  
  
He was careful in his answer. 'A rival. He has already tried to frame me for Hermes.'  
  
'So you want Deronda removed? And you were going to do it yourself at the Mariinsky tonight?'  
  
He smiled.  
  
She stumbled over her next words trying to keep up with them as they formed in her mind.  
  
'MI6 wants Deronda gone, and the threat of Hermes neutralised as quickly as possible. It would be easier if all parties involved considered cooperating until...'  
  
'Whatever are you suggesting?' he interrupted, knowing full well what she meant.  
  
She paused, her fingers gripping the edge of the sill. 'I suppose what I'm offering is a truce.'  
  
'A truce?' She felt a jab of annoyance at his deliberate repetition of her words.  
  
'If you want Deronda removed, then work with us. We're all ultimately seeking a common purpose, surely it would be quicker and easier if we all helped each other.'  
  
'And,' his tone was light, but Ashleigh noticed the undercurrent of danger, just waiting to snap at her. 'What exactly will I get from this little arrangement? I'm not exactly eager to work along side MI6 and 007 again.'  
  
'You'll get what you want,' she retorted sharply. 'Caleb Deronda six feet under.'  
  
Alec sighed as if explaining something to a particularly stubborn child. 'That is not enough. Is that all I can expect?'  
  
Ashleigh hesitated. She tried to read what he was saying, but it was like gazing at the blank page of a book. 'What else do you want?' she asked cautiously.   
  
In an exaggerated manner that she couldn't fail to understand he ran his eyes over her face, and body, lingering at the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips beneath the satin dress. She blushed, and her breathing deepened. So she was to be a part of this bargain. Fine. It wasn't as if she didn't want him, she tried to rationalise to herself, deal or no deal. And it would be no hardship to sleep with him again she grudgingly admitted to herself.  
  
The tip of her tongue dampened her lips. 'Me,' she said firmly before she could back out. 'You can have me if you want...'  
  
Alec said nothing. Again Ashleigh felt the air in the room was choking her.   
  
He laughed, shattering the silence. 'And what if I don't want you?'  
  
She frowned, hiding her embarrassment, 'I think you do.' She tried to sound confident, but doubt had crept in, poisoning her mind.   
  
His voice was filled with languid cruelty. 'You thought wrongly.'  
  
Alec watched as her face flushed with abject humiliation. He was teasing her, seeing how far she would go before she snapped. When he had first seen her that evening he had been jolted by how pleasurable the sight of her again had been. He had anticipated not seeing her again, and then she had stood before him. She had been taunting him in his dreams, and quite often in his waking hours as well, the thought of her lips on his, her slim body moving with his, her face buried in his shoulder to stifle her moans. His reputation and power alone had brought some of the most beautiful women in Russia to his bed, but once there they tried to disguise their distaste to his scars, and closed their eyes against them. But not this woman, she had barely noticed them, running her fingers over their texture, or kissing them because they were a part of him. He had been shaken by her willingness, and passion for him, and now she stood before him once more, this time shaking with rage as he mocked her.  
  
He wanted to push her further, to see how far he could, and now she was offering herself to him on a plate and he was tempted. She was torn between duty and lust, her confusion plain upon her strange features.  
  
'You shouldn't be so willing to offer yourself up, Ashleigh, nor so quickly. There is truth in the myth that you can get far on your back in the world of international espionage, but what would James think of his goddaughter making deals behind his back, offering herself to the enemy?'  
  
'Screw James.' Her tone was dull, she refused to meet his eyes, and he saw that he had gone far enough. With a flick of her wrist she threw the rest of her drink down her throat.  
  
'You don't want me?' she mocked him, as she moved towards him, amber eyes ablaze. 'You did the other night, you can't deny it, as much as I wanted you. I still want you now. So throw me out, because its the only way you're going to stop me...'  
  
She was very close now, reckless, defiant of him, the satin of her dress rippling as she breathed, he could smell the warmth of her scent, perhaps he had underestimated her, she was as much as a tease as he was, a risk taker that got results.   
  
She knelt onto his lap, a finger tracing the line of his jaw. 'Tell me to go, Alec,' her lips were coming closer to his with every word, 'And I will...'  
  
She was almost touching him, waiting for his answer. When none came, she kissed him, hard, her tongue sliding into his mouth to meet his, her fingers entwined in his hair.  
  
His hands grabbed her arms, and she thought that he was pushing her away, but instead he pulled her down onto the soft leather, and covered her body with his. His kiss was as demanding as hers, his touch even more so, and she could feel her desire rising, pressing herself firmly against the centre of him, telling him what she wanted. And he obeyed. 


	12. Chapter Ten

Ashleigh was asleep. She had kicked the heavy covers from her body and now lay sprawled across the bed, her body wrapped in a white sheet. Lying on her front, one arm used as a pillow, her dark hair falling over her face, breathing steadily, she was exposed and vulnerable. Something happened deep within her dream, and she frowned, shifting position until she was comfortable once more, and fell back into a deep sleep.  
  
Dressed in a dark robe, Alec sat across the room, watching his most recent lover as she slept. The vodka was beside him, and finding his glass empty he refilled it. Disturbed once more he took another mouthful of the cold liquid.   
  
Ashleigh Kain had preyed on his mind recently, since he had first made love to her nights previously. Like a memory he couldn't quite grasp she had flickered in and out of his thoughts, irritating him with its frequent occurrence. He couldn't lay his finger on why it upset him so much. He could remember her as a child, a girl with huge watchful brown eyes and a shyness that made her hide behind her long dark hair. David, David Kain, his friend, had been so proud of his daughter, and besotted with both her and his beautiful wife Emma. So much so that Alec had secretly scorned him for being weak. Emma had died, and Alec saw David's devastation, but had not been able to understand it. In the end David had lost everything, killed in action. And Alec had always blamed his weakness. Ashleigh was a woman now, and already Alec could see that she had the same weaknesses inside her as her father.   
  
It had begun as a power game. The sudden realisation of who exactly had been lying at his feet in an unconscious heap, and the bargaining chip he had now possessed. He hadn't expected to be attracted to her, but he had suddenly become obsessed with the idea of her, having what James had, and then going further than James had been, so he had taken her to his bed. But now... now something had changed.  
  
Despite his reluctance to admit it, Alec was still in possession of a conscience, a deeply buried one, but it was still there. The lessons after Goldeneye had taught him humility, trapped within his helplessly shattered body. He had no regrets, well if he did, he wouldn't confess to them, following the aftermath of the incident, but now he faced reality. He was still a powerful man and the name Janus could still strike fear into a rival's heart but that was it. He had rivals now that were getting stronger and Alec could no longer be considered top dog. The question that haunted him constantly was 'what next?'  
  
He gazed almost enviously at the sleeping woman, jealous at the simplicity of her life, she had her career to focus on, she went to work, she went home, saw her friends, worked towards her next career stage. Simplicity itself.   
  
He frowned. He was getting weak. He should have killed her when he had the opportunity to. Or at least kept her captive. It would have been easier, and it would have destroyed James. Instead he had let emotions and the past rule him. If she hadn't been David's daughter, would that have made a difference? Or was it the very fact that she was a Kain the reason she kept creeping back into his thoughts?  
  
He had a decision to make. He sat still once more, and let the darkness surround him.   
  
Caught in the void between dreams, Ashleigh turned over, seeking a more comfortable way to sleep, and in that brief moment of waking she opened her eyes. Seeing Alec watching her from the shadows, she started, pulling the sheet closer around her, and sitting up.  
  
'You scared me,' she accused him. 'Couldn't you sleep?' she asked, and then cursed herself inwardly for stating the obvious.  
  
Very slowly he began to speak. 'It wasn't me. I didn't kill Vaskov, or Gregory Fraser, and I have no involvement with the Hermes project.' His eyes bored into her, trying to convince her of his innocence. He wanted her to believe him.   
  
She bit her lip. 'How can I trust you Alec?'  
  
'I'm a dead man. I have no interest in biological warfare.'  
  
'Yet every question I've asked, you can answer it. You're very well informed for someone with no interest.'  
  
'I like to be aware of things, to know what happening in the shady underworld.' The sarcasm in his voice was clear.  
  
''So you have no motive, no reason to be involved at all?'  
  
'Exactly.'  
  
'Except revenge.'  
  
'I wouldn't call it revenge on Deronda.'  
  
'And James?'  
  
'No.'  
  
She narrowed her eyes. 'You deny you want James dead?'  
  
'James is another matter. You'll have to trust me on that, and on Hermes.'  
  
He saw the scorn on her face, the derision in her voice. 'I've already said that I can not trust you. I have no reason to do so.'  
  
He could move so quickly, the words were barely out of her mouth before she found herself pinned to the bed, Alec demonic above her.   
  
'You have to Ashleigh. Because you won't live unless you do.'  
  
Ignoring the pains in her wrist from where he held them, she studied his face, searching his eyes as if she could find the truth in them.  
  
'I want to help you,' he whispered, so softly she could barely hear the words. Her temper flared again.  
  
'Why would you bother to help me? Do you feel you owe me something because we slept together?' she struggled beneath him, hissing the words at him, 'Because I can tell you now, you owe me nothing. This is all a damned game to you, and I'm not going to play any more. Now let me go!'  
  
With a vicious jerk she pulled him off balance and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. He held her back.  
  
'I'm helping you because I want to. Not because of James, James is nothing anymore. Not because of anything other than the fact I want to help you.' Drawing her to him once more, he murmured just before their lips met again, 'I shall do everything in my power to help you. Truce?'  
  
And so Ashleigh's deal with the Devil was struck.  
  
*  
  
Afterwards, it was Alec who fell into a deep sleep, curiously at ease, in rest his face losing all tension. Uneasy, Ashleigh lay awake watching her lover sleep. Her body was sated, and still, but her mind worked frantically, stopping her from sleeping. It seemed wrong, almost sadistic that he could reduce her to a trembling wreck with a single touch, or that she craved it so much. It seemed so right to be with him, but the guilt almost destroyed her as she lay there, eating away at her. She thought briefly of her other most recent lover, a rugby player called Dan whom she occasionally saw in London. She wondered what made Alec so different from him, or any other lover she had had, why he made her feel this way.  
  
Now she lay in cool cotton sheets, a killer beside her, and knew that if she could describe this moment in years to come, she could, down to every last detail in the room.   
  
A memory came to her, shocking her with its clarity; her twelve year old self at home for once at her parents' London townhouse, on a break from school. She would have to return to Westerly the next day, so she had gone to her father's study to say goodnight for the final time. The door had opened wide as soon as she had knocked, and not only had her father been there, tall, handsome, well built with the same smiling brown eyes as her, but also James, still as smooth and as wonderful as ever, and who had hugged her fiercely. But there had been a third man, waiting patiently in the background, grey eyes crinkled against the cigar smoke that had filled the room, until he had stepped forward and introduced to her. At that moment she had become instantly shy, and alarmingly tongue tied.  
  
Her father and James had always been her heroes, but now almost painfully her loyalties had switched to this new man before her. Tall with stormy grey eyes and sleek blond hair, his hand had dwarfed hers when he had offered it to her. Thrown by these unfamiliar and crazy feelings she had been paralysed with her shyness, barely able to move or speak. Alec Trevelyan had shaken her twelve year old self to the core, now thirteen or so years later, she was in his bed, her twenty five year old self as shaken as her younger self had been.  
  
She realised it had been six months later she had heard of his death in a car crash, while abroad on business. An accident, her father had explained to her while she was on half term, a terrible tragic accident. So disturbed had David Kain been by his friend's death, he hadn't noticed his daughter's own shock. Ashleigh's adolescence had begun when she had met Alec, she had eagerly hoped to see him again, or that he might visit the house again, even hearing his name was a thrill. It had been hard for her to imagine he was dead, to think he was no longer a part of the world had been surprisingly painful, so she had buried it away inside herself. Mere months later her father had died, and no pain in the world could compare to that agony. It had been so intense she had never once questioned the mysterious circumstances surrounding David Kain's death, she had simply accepted it. Later, after her graduation, M had given her father's papers, and encouraged her to apply to MI6, to follow in her father's footsteps. It seemed the right career choice to make, as everything about her father, James and Alec had fallen into place. Now, having been at MI6 for nearly four years, she found herself in the strange surreal scenario of being Alec's lover.  
  
Idly, pushing away all thoughts of her father and her childhood, she brushed a hand over his hair and gave him the lightest of kisses on his lips. Then she tried to sleep.  
  
Like the morning previously when she awoke, she was alone. This time she didn't feel sick at his actions, but rather she accepted them with a grim stoicism. Showering she wondered idly at how she was supposed to return to St. Petersburg wearing only a thin satin evening dress. She didn't relish the thought, and once she glanced outside and saw the grey sky and the tops of the evergreens shivering with the cold, the thought was even less pleasant. Watching the trees with an absent mind, she at first didn't notice the clothes neatly folded and waiting on the bed. Black, well cut trousers, a crisp white shirt, and the softest cashmere v neck. Next to them, as neat and tidy as the rest, sat her dress. She paused for a moment, slightly stunned, even more so when she saw how accurate the sizes were. Once dressed, she heard the familiar tap at the door, and she found herself once more following a faceless man along dark corridors.   
  
Why do I keep doing this? She thought as she hurried after the man, why do you let your hormones rather than common sense rule you? It was as if all her brain cells abandoned her when a dangerous and powerful man came into view... And speak of the Devil...  
  
Alec stood waiting for her, his hair damp and spiky from the shower, watching as she walked up to him, approving of the clothes she wore, even if she did have to team them with the kitten heels from the night before, her damp tousled hair soft around her fresh face, and returning the shy smile she gave him. He picked up a heavy coat and wrapped her in it, securing her against the cold morning, and tugging her forward by the lapels so he could kiss her.   
  
'Outside.'  
  
Blinking in the weak sunshine that had fought its way through the greyness, Ashleigh found herself standing on a wide set of stone steps. There on the drive below her, the pale sun glinting off the gunmetal grey paint work, illuminating the harsh lines of the body, was a Mercedes CLK. Coming up behind her, Alec handed her a set of keys.  
  
'Yours. For as long as you need it.'  
  
She was suspicious, but took the keys all the same, walking around the car, admiring its cruel stark beauty. She loved cars, especially fast ones, with a fierce passion. Clicking the key fob, her heart leaped at the satisfying heavy clunk and flash of lights that occured when the doors unlocked. Opening the drivers door she leaned against it.  
  
'Thank you,' she said simply.   
  
'One more thing,' he said, walking down to her, 'If you need my help, or just want to contact me, use this. Only you have a direct line.' He tossed her a small silver mobile phone, compact and fiddly. Flicking it open, she saw a single number illuminated there. She nodded and stepped forwards, seeking his mouth for a soft kiss, and with a whisper of goodbye, slid into the drivers seat. With a roar and a squeal of tires, she was gone, whipping the car around and speeding up the drive.  
  
Alec watched her go, all gentleness gone from his eyes, the coldness had returned. Kristov stood behind him, his pale blue eyes trailing icily after the Mercedes, watching emptily as the brake lights flickered briefly and the car turned sharply out of sight.  
  
Alec never even turned. 'You know what to do.'


	13. Chapter Eleven

The simple thrill of just driving came back to Ashleigh as she headed back to the city, the SATNAV directing her, she merely had to follow the instructions and put her foot to the floor. It seemed like forever since the last time she had driven for pleasure, instead she seemed to spend half her life in traffic jams along the banks of the Thames. When she got back, whenever she got back, she was going to take her Spider on a decent jaunt for once, head down to the West Country, let it have its head on some proper roads for once.   
  
A passion for Italian cars had been instilled in her from an early age by her father, and she had rarely ventured away from them in her driving career. Today though, after the shock of the night before, and her lack of sleep, the cool German efficiency of the Mercedes suited her down to the ground.  
  
She wondered if she was making a mistake with Alec. Of course she was. Even in her craziest moments, trapped under the spell of her desire for Alec, she knew that, and she knew that if she kept playing with fire she was going to get burnt, and badly. Was a few nights of passion worth that risk? The stubborn, and lonely, part of her insisted that it was, it had been a while since she had had some fun, and it wasn't as if she wasn't working while she got her kicks.  
  
The mission, if she was honest, was disturbing her. They had so much information, but were unable to act upon it. Alec seemed desperate to warn her of the danger she was in, and the theatre incident had frightened her more than she would like to admit. She was desperate herself, wanting to get back to the city to James and Dmitrov, to find out what had happened, and to see if they were safe. Gripping the steering wheel firmly, she hoped that they were.  
  
Her attention had wandered while she was driving, changing gear and braking on auto pilot while she thought of the night before. However the black saloon that suddenly appeared in her rear view mirror snapped her attention back to the road. Blacked out windows, and a menacing grill, it was far too close to her, and catching up with every second that passed. Warily, following the feeling in the pit of her stomach she kept glancing back at it, watching as it followed her every move, changing lanes when she did so. The feeling got worse, her mouth dried, and she felt her palms dampen on the wheel. Seeing a small minor road sign posted up ahead she made a decision, and turned quickly onto it, no braking, no indication. A heartbeat later the saloon appeared behind her.  
  
'Shit,' she murmured, refusing to be distracted, she dropped down a gear and felt the Kompressor kick in as she pulled away, accelerating through the bends, it didn't help, the saloon was bearing down on her again. At last the threat was realised, and with a jolt, Ashleigh was thrown forwards, her feet slipping on the pedals as the Merc was rammed.   
  
'Bastard!' she screamed, suddenly frightened again, feeling control abandoning her, venting her fury on the gear shift she cut down the gears, trying to put some more distance between her and them, but at the back of her mind she thought there was something wrong with the car, and she couldn't work out what. The tail swung out as she rounded a bend, seeing a straight up ahead she floored it. Again she was hit, and she braked hard, jerking the wheel to the right. cutting across the road, adrenaline and panic coursing through her, the fight was getting furious. A final blow to the left bumper, and the car slid towards the edge of the road, she lost control, frantically hitting the brakes again.  
  
The occupants of the other car watched as the car rolled once, twice, three times, before coming to rest on its roof, rear wheels spinning helplessly. Ashleigh felt the car bump along the edge of the ditch, rise up, her temple hit the side panel, the ground came rushing towards her at a strange angle. She lost consciousness, and as the world faded away, her final thoughts were that the brakes had failed, and of Alec.  
  
The night at the Mariinsky theatre had ended in tragedy. Half way through the second Act a hysterical screaming had begun. In the Grand Circle Vaskov's rapidly cooling body had been discovered. There had been no sign of Ashleigh, and James had hoped that she had been sensible enough to get as far away from the dead minister as possible. It was as if the discovery of the body had been a cue. Suddenly the theatre had erupted into carnage, armed faceless men had filled the theatre, three people had been shot, and had died as a result. There had been no reason given for the attack, no explanation, and James was more than suspicious. He could only think that it had been a cover up for Vaskov's murder, and now the blame was being placed upon an separatist terror organisation. It was clever, Bond could see that, and he and Dmitrov had found themselves in the thick of the action. A brief struggle to disarm one of the 'terrorists' had left Bond with a dark bruise on his ribs from the butt of a rifle, Dmitrov was sporting a split lip and cut under his eye.  
  
It was frustrating. Each path Bond was faced with finished in a dead end. He wanted to talk to Lucinda Elliot personally, feeling as if she was the key, it was a case of manipulating a meeting with her. It was this thought that occupied James as he and Dmitrov walked across the lobby of the hotel.   
  
'Mr. Bond!' The concierge spotted them, and holding one hand over the receiver called out, 'I have a telephone call for you.'  
  
Bond raised an eyebrow at Dmitrov, before taking the receiver from the concierge. 'Yes, this is Bond,' he said in reply to the heavily accented voice on the other end.  
  
His eyes closed as he listened to the news, and the blood ran from his face.  
  
The phone was among Ashleigh's belongings. Bond turned it over in his hands, this wasn't Ashleigh's usual mobile. Flicking it open he saw the single number programmed in, and with a cold fury guessed where his goddaughter had once more spent the night. Cursing her stupidity, he listened as it rang once, twice, and then the click of connection. There was silence, but James could hear someone breathing quietly at the other end.  
  
'Talk to me, Janus.'  
  
'James.'  
  
'Last orders.'  
  
'11pm. The Square.'  
  
A click and the connection was over.  
  
Three years ago James had come face to face with a dead man. Now among the desecrated statues of communist leaders, James was meeting again. The fog was dense, the night chill, but James Bond was colder.   
  
As he waited, he could feel a rage building inside him, and hearing a footstep shouted in frustration. 'I know you're here Alec!'  
  
Alec Trevelyan stepped from the shadows and faced his former friend.   
  
'Evening James,' Oh so casual, and infuriating as usual. Bond didn't meet his eyes, instead staring around at the remains of the statues.   
  
'What part do you play in all of this, Alec?'  
  
'Really, it was always all about the mission with you James. That's not why you're here.'  
  
'What part, Alec?' he repeated.  
  
'Nothing. I have no interest in the Hermes Project.'  
  
'I can't believe that.'  
  
With a malicious gleam in his eyes, Alec couldn't resist taunting the other man. 'Ashleigh Kain said the same thing last night.'  
  
James ignored him. 'What do you know about Hermes?'  
  
'I know that it is of interest to every figure of power in Russia. Developed and now being marketed by Caleb Deronda. With control of it Russia could be a world power once more, one to rival both Britain and America. Beyond that, I have no interest or involvement in it.'  
  
The tension was clear on Bond's face, he looked tired and strained. 'No, no involvement in this,' he said softly. 'My goddaughter though. Lets face it, the only reason you seduced her was revenge on me, what would David think of you using his daughter as a weapon?'  
  
Alec at least had the grace to look away at the mention of Ashleigh's father. 'She's old enough to make her own decisions, James. You should know that.'  
  
'She's twenty five. Barely into adulthood.' James paused, wanting his next words to take effect. 'Did you wonder how I managed to contact you?'  
  
A wary look flickered across Alec's scarred features. 'It had crossed my mind.'  
  
'The phone you gave her. It was among her belongings given to me at the hospital.'  
  
'Hospital?' Even in the dim light James could see Alec frown, visibly shaken. Good, he thought, it gave him more satisfaction in his next news.  
  
'Ashleigh was recovered from a car wreck this morning, about twenty kilometres outside of the city. Her car, a grey Mercedes coupe was on its roof when they found her, it had been run off the road. I've tried tracing the plates, but its been exceptionally difficult. I have my suspicions though. The brakes failed, the car flipped. The brake fluid had been emptied, and the cables been scored through, as soon as she braked heavily they snapped. Someone wanted her to have that accident. I wonder who that could be, Alec?'  
  
Alec's face had paled, and when he raised a hand to run it over his hair James saw it was shaking. 'Ashleigh?' he asked thickly, 'Is she ok? Is she alive?'  
  
'Miraculously, yes. She has a concussion, a few cuts and bruises. She'll survive... She's bloody lucky to!' For once Bond overcame his usual detachment, letting his emotions rule him. Anger coursed through him as he remembered seeing Ashleigh lying deathly still in the hospital bed, blood drying to a crust upon her temple. For a terrifying moment he thought she was dead, and his relief at her diagnoses had swamped him. Now staring at Alec, he thought how much pleasure it would bring him to smash his fist into that smug, arrogant, scarred face.  
  
'I want to see her.' Alec's jaw was set, he spoke quietly but firmly.  
  
'No.'  
  
'I want to see her, James,' he repeated.  
  
'Finishing the job?'  
  
Something flickered in Alec's clenched jaw. 'I wouldn't harm her.'  
  
Once friends, now bitter enemies, they faced each other. And all bets were off.  
  
James had insisted that Ashleigh was discharged as soon as possible. He hadn't wanted any one to come back and attempt to complete the job they had started. Now a trusted doctor was on call at the hotel, Ashleigh was in good hands. She was still dazed from the crash, the concussion had brought on a slight fever, she had slept since they had brought her back to the hotel. Dozing in the double bed, wearing pale blue and white striped pyjamas, her pale skin flushed she looked very young and vulnerable. Around the room the clutter of her life remained, a half read novel by the bed, an assortment of makeup and brushes from the night before sprawled across the desk, a pot of hair wax by the mirror. Entering the room, Alec noticed none of these things, only seeing the young woman who had shared his bed the night before now lying pale and fragile looking before him.  
  
James shrugged off his jacket, making sure that Alec saw him take his gun. Sitting in an armchair, he trained the gun on the other man.   
  
'You'd kill me in front of her?' Alec allowed a trace of bitterness into his voice.  
  
'I'd kill you in a second. I've done it before.'  
  
In her sleep, Ashleigh stirred, a sudden flare of pain causing her to moan. Glancing defiantly in James's direction, Alec sat on the edge of the bed, and reached over to brush a strand of hair from her face. Her eyes opened, dazed and confused.  
  
'Alec?' she whispered, confused. 'What are you doing here?'  
  
He knew this was about her, taking her hand he planted a gentle kiss on the palm. 'Seeing you.'  
  
'The brakes wouldn't work.'  
  
'I know?'  
  
'Why?' she yawned, sleepy again, her head demanding rest.  
  
'I don't know why.'  
  
'You?'  
  
His grip tightened on her hand, she gasped in pain and tried to pull it away. 'No. I promise you, I will never try to hurt you.'  
  
'I hope so,' the ghost of a smiled appeared.  
  
With narrowed eyes James waved the gun in the direction of the door. 'Time's up Alec.'  
  
'No!' Ashleigh protested weakly.   
  
'Soon,' he leaned over and kissed her cheek. 'I'll see you soon,'  
  
She smiled, soothed like a child, and slipped once more into a deep sleep.  
  
Alec straightened, a grim look on his face. 'I have nothing to do with this. With her 'accident', with anything.'  
  
'You're dead, Alec. I don't have to believe a word you say.'  
  
A final glance at the girl, and Alec turned and left. James continued to sit there, watching his goddaughter sleep, disturbed by the scene he had just witnessed. 


	14. Chapter Twelve

'A Stroke of Luck or Gift from God?  
  
The Hand of Fate or Devil's Claw?  
  
From below or Saint's above?  
  
You came to me.'  
  
Garbage; 'A Stroke of Luck'  
  
Days later Ashleigh glanced quickly at the clock and collapsed on the bed. Despite the early hour she was ready to sleep for a week, she stretched and yawned feeling grimy and stiff. It had been a long day, ending with an interrogating video link up with M, and Ashleigh, still feeling shaky from her accident headed for the shower to let the warm jets of water soothe her.  
  
Since her accident it seemed like they had been in constant contact with England. M was equally frustrated with the constant dead ends they were facing and advised them that they should sit tight and let the chaos after the Mariinsky incident die down. The media was howling for information, wanting to know who the terrorists were and why a minister such as Vaskov had been targeted. Now they did nothing but research, James was ready to go through the roof; disapproving of such passive techniques, feeling as if his natural instincts were being restrained by bureaucracy. Quickly she slipped into her pale blue striped pyjama bottoms, teaming them with a vest. She would sit up for a little while and catch the news at home before she slept.  
  
All doom and gloom. It was bloody depressing, and Ashleigh found herself yawning even more. Desperate to hear a friendly voice she turned on her mobile phone, her gaze falling briefly on the other phone in her possession, sleek, silver and silent, given to her by Alec and infuriatingly quiet. On her own phone a message beeped through, her friend Evie asking her when she would be back in the UK. She sighed grumpily, when Hell froze over or when the world was saved again, whatever came quicker she supposed. Another glance at the clock confirmed her hope, it wasn't too late to phone England, and Evie's sense of humour would be the perfect thing to cheer her up. Almost immediately it clicked to the answer phone. How could she have forgotten? Her friends had a life outside of work; it was only Ashleigh who didn't. Once a long time ago she did, but now she could barely remember it. With a little mutter she collapsed back onto the bed.  
  
*  
  
The previous day a man walked into Elliot Enterprises, and smiled at the receptionist behind the desk. It was a pretty redhead there, Rebekah no longer worked at E.E. With devastatingly charming motion, a business card was produced, would it be possible for Ms. Elliot to contact him, he wished to take such a fascinating woman out to dinner while he was in St. Petersburg. The pretty redhead deciding that if she was on the receiving end of such an offer she would have accepted immediately scampered into Ms. Elliot's office. Sheer curiosity drove the voluptuous blonde out, her fabulous curves highlighted to perfection by the expensive suit to face the man who had made such a confident gesture. She was not disappointed; the man was tall, dark and elegantly dressed, carrying himself well, and had a roguish smile. When he asked her to dinner himself she accepted almost immediately, why not? So now she had agreed to meet him at his hotel, dressed in a beautiful, slinky black dress, smiling up at her dinner date. James smiled back, offered her his arm and led her to the waiting taxi.  
  
*  
  
The knock on the door surprised her. Only half ten at night, but still too late for visitors. She supposed it was James and clambered off the bed.  
  
It wasn't James. Pulling open the door, one hand over her mouth to cover a yawn and hopefully James would get the message. She froze. Alec? What the hell was he doing there? She stared at him in silence, unable to form any coherent words, acutely aware she wore no make up and her hair was wild. She felt vulnerable, dressed only in thin cotton; her vest had risen up to expose her pale midriff, and clung to her high breasts. Alec on then other hand was dressed in a charcoal suit and a grey blue shirt, he was calm and composed compared to sleepy appearance. As he looked her up and down a smirk came onto his face.  
  
'I had thought to take you to dinner, but I'm obviously too late.'  
  
With some difficulty she forced the words out. 'What are you doing here? If James saw you...'  
  
'If James were here to see me. He's just left though, an attractive blonde on his arm. I think he might be occupied for some time.'  
  
She came to her senses and glancing up and down the corridor she took a step towards him and slid her hands into his jacket, checking for a weapon. She was taking no chances. He realised, with another smirk, what she was doing and spread his arms wide to allow her freer access. Crouching she ran her hands up his muscled calves, noticing his boots were Italian and made of very soft leather. His suit was well cut, and he wore the same cool and fresh scent that had haunted her since she last smelt it. Breathing it in she stood, feeling her head reel at his close proximity, hating the way he made her feel. She wondered if she threw herself at him now and begged him to drag her into the room and throw her onto the bed, would he say 'yes'? She snapped back to reality and met his eyes once more.  
  
'I'm clean,' he said raising an eyebrow, 'I don't usually carry a weapon out to dinner.'  
  
Crossing her arms over her chest, hoping to cover some of it up, she frowned. 'Isn't it far too late for dinner?'  
  
'It all depends on whether you've eaten or not.'  
  
As a matter of fact she hadn't. And the thought of a meal out was making her mouth water. But she didn't let it faze her. 'I haven't yet. But I'm not sure this is a good idea Alec. Maybe I should just order room service,' she made to close the door between them, but Alec took a step forward, deftly blocking the path of the door, one arm leaning casually against the frame.   
  
'I told you I'd see you again,' he whispered, reaching to stroke her cheek. 'Come out with me. Its just dinner.'  
  
'I'm not dressed.'  
  
'Well, yes, but I could meet you in the bar in twenty minutes,' he dragged his eyes up from her stomach, 'But I think you look just fine.'  
  
She managed a smile 'Fifteen minutes will be fine.' She closed the door on him.   
  
*  
  
So far the conversation had been focused on mundane business talk, but Bond managed to resist a smile as a small foot slid up his calf. Things were going well.  
  
*  
  
Fifteen minutes had nearly passed, nursing a tonic water Alec was slumped on a sofa, wondering if she was going to turn up, when Ashleigh walked in. He sat up straight, her dark hair was falling over one eye, she wore a black satin pencil skirt and a black mandarin collared top. Her kohled eyes flashed in his direction and her glossy lips smiled at him. She paused, just inside the door, making sure he saw her, and then turned. She was making him chase her for once, and he would let her. For now.  
  
Outside the hotel, a car was waiting for them. It was the car that Ashleigh had crashed in, and she checked slightly at the sight of it. Without a word though, she walked round to where a doorman was holding the door for her, and slid in. Alec drove, cruising on near empty roads through the city. Ashleigh sat in silence, watching the night life outside, people moving from pub to club, laughing and smiling. Her face was half in shadow, she still didn't speak and he didn't make her. He would glance at her sometimes, and fight back the urge to run his hand along the length of her leg, when they stopped at lights, he resisted leaning over to kiss her. He hated the weakness she aroused in him.  
  
They pulled up at another hotel, where they would dine in a suite of rooms, organised on a whim when Alec had decided he wanted another night with her. He enjoyed her company, particularly in bed, and he told himself that was it. Nothing else. When she had opened the door, he had nearly turned and left, she had seemed so young and innocent, and he remembered what a dangerous game he was playing. But then he had seen the curve of her belly and the shape of her breasts, and he knew then he couldn't leave. Dinner however was now not his main plan for the evening.   
  
The room was simple and elegant, Alec hated anything to fussy, and he sensed Ashleigh did too. A bottle of wine had been left in their room, opened to breathe, and poured by the discreet waiter who brought their food. He left the couple in peace. Ashleigh suddenly discovered she was ravenous, and Alec seeing this, passed her a glass of wine. As he did so he suddenly noticed the cut healing on her temple, the bruise livid against her skin, the hair pushed forward to hide it. Placing the glass down, he reached up and brushed her hair from her face to examine it. She winced and pulled away.  
  
'Still hurts?' he asked quietly.  
  
'A little. Its bearable.' She played with her fork nervously. 'The car was a wreck.'  
  
He shrugged. 'It was fixed as you saw. Did you find out who was in the other car?'  
  
She looked up at him .her eyes dark. 'I thought you would know.'  
  
'Somebody must have seen you leave with me. You're a new target. People are out to get you.'  
  
'Evidently.'  
  
'Listen to me, Ashleigh. I played this game for a long time, its far more dangerous than you could ever know. You risk your life every day, every minute, waiting for your enemy's bullet. And believe me, there is one out there with your name on it. That crash could have easily killed you, it was meant to, yet you walk away with a few cuts and bruises through sheer damned luck. James was frightened for you. I could see that. Why do you want to risk your life like this?'  
  
'You're asking me that? I'm an agent for MI6 - its my job. I risk my life because I choose to.'  
  
Alec sighed. 'Because of your father?'  
  
She shrugged. 'I don't know. I was twenty one when I first read the files on my father, M gave them to me. Straight out of university. Within six months I went from reading Marlowe and Webster to firing a gun and breaking codes.' She suddenly discovered the urge to talk, the words tumbling from her mouth, and Alec sensing her need, let her talk. 'My friends have no idea what I do. They all hear the same old cover story, I work for a large cooperation called Universal Exports, based in the city. I do this, because I want to do this, and because I no longer have a choice, its my career.'  
  
'You could be killed...'  
  
'Like my father?' she snapped, cutting off his sentence, 'Like you? I'm well aware of the risks, as you were.'  
  
For a while Alec was silent, sipping his wine. 'Do you judge me?'  
  
'Why on earth would I judge you? You betrayed everyone you were close to. You tried to destroy London. You've managed to convince the world that you were dead, not once, but twice.' The next words came before she could stop them. 'Its a bigger achievement than most of the men I've slept with.'  
  
'Are you sleeping with anyone else at the moment?' Like her, he seemed unable to stop himself from asking.  
  
Apart from you? She thought, her eyes narrowing. 'Not really. Being an international spy takes up a lot of my spare time.'  
  
'The rugby player?' so casually asked.  
  
'What about him? Have you been checking up on me?' her lip curled. 'Old habits die hard, Alec. Once a spy, always a spy.'  
  
For a while he was quiet, simply looking at her. 'I know a lot of things about you Ash. Your birthday is the 28th October, making you a scorpio, but you don't believe in horoscopes. You were educated at Westerly, a co-ed public school in Devon, excelling in English and Sciences. Deputy captain of the hockey team. You read English at the University of Bath, and lived in the city for a year after completing your degree. You now live alone in London, and have a small select group of friends that you don't see very often. And the rugby player,'  
  
If she was unnerved by his knowledge of her life, she didn't show it. 'Very thorough. As for the rugby player, he's a friend. Known him for years. A boyfriend at university, it didn't last. How did you know about him?'  
  
He couldn't resist a smug smirk. 'I didn't. I guessed. Intuition. Psychological profiling might be a more modern term. You're an active woman, went to a sports orientated university, and your father loved the game. You've probably learnt something of the game from him. As you said, once a spy and all that.'  
  
She smiled in spite of herself. 'When I was in training, we used you as a case study. The agent gone bad and out for revenge.'  
  
He was amused at this. 'Really? And what did you learn?' It was interesting his name lived on in infamy.  
  
'Your parents were Lienz Cossacks, searching for protection from England, like many others you were betrayed, and your father couldn't live with the guilt, taking both your mother's and his own life. You lived, and grew up to join MI6, eventually proving yourself, and becoming 006. You and 007 infiltrated the Arkeangel Weapons Store in the then USSR, where you were captured and executed. James escaped, in one of his many daring ways. You were honoured as a hero. It was a devastating blow to MI6 losing one of their 00 agents. Years later a new power is rising in Russia, the Janus crime syndicate, headed by mysterious man calling himself Janus, the two faced Roman God. The Goldeneye device is targeted and traced to Janus by James. He was horrified to discover Janus is you. The betrayed had become the betrayer. You're traced to the Caribbean and Alec Trevelyan is killed for a second time. MI6 breathes a sigh of relief and you become a case study. The effects of your personal history upon your psyche.'  
  
She had seen the flare of pain in Alec's eyes at the mention of his parents and now she stopped speaking. He breathed deeply, his grip tightening upon his wine glass, until suddenly he gave a harsh laugh. 'My life. Summarised so briefly.'  
  
She needed to connect with him, to explain herself. 'I live in your shadow,' she spoke quietly, and he could hear the seriousness in her voice. 'Three men influenced my life, my father, James and you.'  
  
She looked at him, and he was hit by her resemblance to her father. 'My father's name follows me wherever I go, the hero, David Kain, 009. As for who my godfather is, well, that's common knowledge in MI6. Through them, I'm associated with you. And all the time, because of who I am, I'm expected to be a great agent. M is convinced that I shall become a wild card like James, reckless, a risk taker, a rule breaker, but I'm not so sure. I think I shall be like you, before your defection of course. I shall do my job, I shall do it calmly, and I shall get results. That is my way with dealing with all of this, to remember that this is simply a job, nothing more, nothing less, my chosen career.'  
  
'Don't you feel anger for your father's death?'  
  
'Of course I do! But its a pointless anger. I might as well feel angry at the cancer that killed my mother. My father's death was as a result of his work. I can get angry, I can try to take revenge, or I can get on with my own life.'  
  
She leant forward. 'I'm not one for psychobabble Alec,' Ashleigh's tone was cool, her gaze hard, 'But I believe that we all make our own choices, the out come of which we have to live with. Your father made a choice that destroyed him, destroyed your mother and damaged you beyond belief. Revenge was your choice, and now you live with the consequences. I could have easily gone the same way as you - avenged my father's death, my revenge upon his killers who took him away from me. I was angry enough to do so. But I couldn't, because in the end my father chose that life, to be a 00 agent. I tortured myself with all the 'what ifs'. What if he had been a business man, like I thought he was? He could have easily been killed in a freak act of terrorism, or a 'normal father' who could have been killed in a car accident like one of his closest friends.'  
  
She reached for his face, resting her hand along his jaw, her thumb slowly stroking his scars.  
  
'Alec Trevelyan, tragically killed in a head on collision in Russia, while working for Universal Exports. It happened three months after I first met you, twelve years old and so in awe of you and so shy I could barely speak. Your death effected my father, and it effected me. Six months later my father takes a bullet between the eyes, executed just like you. And just like you, the official story is a car crash. The irony isn't lost on me.'  
  
He stayed silent, just staring into her dark eyes, so close to his. The rich warmth of them reflected the candle flames, she held his gaze steadily but there was something set in her jaw, and he thought he saw her lips tremble. He let her speak.  
  
'So what do I do? I join the organization that my father worked for. I do the same job that led to his death. My choice. I don't have a license to kill, but I can kill if my life is compromised. I killed my first man when I was twenty three, during one of my first solo missions, and it was the first time I was involved in a physical fight. A guard tried to strangle me, we grappled, I broke free, pulled my gun and shot him in the throat. I was only about a metre away, drenched in his blood. I couldn't think about that man's death, not while I had a mission to complete. So I finished, came home, and that weekend went out with my friends. On e of my rare 'normal' nights. In a nightclub bathroom, I catch a glimpse of my reflection and I saw blood on my face. My imagination playing tricks on me, but it scared me so badly that I couldn't stop crying. My friends tried to calm me down, thinking it was a failed romance or over some man, and I couldn't explain to them that I was a cold blooded killer. Nothing can prepare you for that moment, not all of the psychological evaluations they make you sit through, that moment when you realise you are a killer. I was so sick. All I could think of was this man. Did he have a daughter at home, waiting for her daddy to return? Had I become the same nameless killer as the man who killed my father? But I continued, I carried on, and I've killed since. That's my choice. I live with the consequences of my actions, and deal with them, because if I don't, they'll destroy me.'  
  
'And now?' he hadn't spoken for a while and his voice was husky.  
  
'Tonight?'  
  
He nodded.  
  
'I choose you.' 


	15. Chapter Thirteen

Lucinda placed a key card upon the table, the whiteness of it blending perfectly against the white linen table cloth. She said nothing, merely giving him the hottest of looks. Bond picked up the card and twirled it in his fingers before standing and offering her his hand. She accepted it graciously and they headed for her room.  
  
Inside her kisses were warm and welcoming, her fingers gliding over his muscled and toned body, and Bond felt the familiar detachment within him rise. This was just another woman who was offering herself and her body to him. But he didn't refuse. He never did, and occasionally he felt something for them. Even entering into relationships with them but they never lasted. And soon he could barely remember them, and there was always another woman to take their place. Lucinda was tugging eagerly at him, and he had to admit that she was passionate. His hands slipped under her fine blonde hair to caress the back of her neck and pull her closer to him as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. She pressed back against him, and soon she was tugging at his jacket, and encouraging him in his touches.   
  
She was good, writhing beneath him as he thrust into her, meeting him, arching her back, gently clawing at his skin. Afterwards he held her, stroking her soft side, automatically going through the familiar gestures, kissing the back of her neck, whispering softly in her ear.   
  
'You can't stay,' she said almost harshly. He nodded, he hadn't expected or planned to. Slipping from the bed she headed to the other room, carrying her clothes. Quickly Bond leapt from the warmth of the rumpled bed sheets and dressed in a smooth practised manner. He knew what he had to do. The papers were carefully hidden under the lining of a drawer, showing the floor plans of a scientific complex, laboratories, research areas, all neatly laid out in the rolled up blue prints. The tiny camera he carried did its work, and they were recorded. Working silently he replaced them, and turned.  
  
Lucinda walked into the room, and he was hardly surprised to see her carrying a gun.   
  
'Lucinda,' he reprimanded her gently, 'You don't have to threaten me to get me to leave.'  
  
She threw him a scornful look. 'Enough, Mr. Bond.'  
  
*  
  
Ashleigh stood, and walked around the table to him, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet, their lips meeting in a surprisingly tender kiss. It deepened as his hands crept under her top to find the soft skin of her waist, he pulled her closer, and she wrapped her arms around him as she felt her resolve weaken once more. As James had done to Lucinda, he slid his hands around to the back of her neck, and pulled her closer, his kisses growing deeper, and more frantic. His caresses grew rough, and suddenly she gasped, as he plunged his hands into her hair he had caught the side of her temple. Stars appeared behind her eyes, and she felt the gash break and a thin trickle of blood began to slip down the side of her face. It was the wake up call she needed, and she came crashing down to reality.  
  
'No!' she cried out, and pushed him away. She saw the flash of anger in his face, and then he saw the blood on her face. He brushed the hair back from her face, saw the freshly opened cut, and then the smear of blood on the back of his fingers. He met her eyes, and saw the doubt there, and knew she was still questioning his involvement in her accident. He reached for her again, but she jerked away and walked into the bathroom.  
  
She was shaking. Placing her hands on the counter she breathed deeply, trying to force down all the horror that was swamping her. In too deep, you're in too deep, the words pounded in her head. Flicking her hair back from her face she reached for a tissue.  
  
Alec was standing in the door way. His shirt collar was undone, his hair tousled. Their eyes met in the mirror. She dropped hers first. He rubbed the shadow of stubble that darkened his jaw. 'You were lost in thought,' he said.  
  
'I was.. ' her lips were dry and she dampened them with her tongue. 'I was thinking how we all have to live with the consequences of our actions.'  
  
'And the consequences of tonight?' he was unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice, he had thought that they had, that something had happened between them that night.  
  
She closed her eyes briefly, but when she spoke her voice was calm without a trace of a tremble. 'That I shall still have to do my duty when the time comes.' She dabbed at the blood on her temple.   
  
With a sudden dark look he was across the room, arms on either side of her, loosely pinning her to the counter, barely touching her. 'You duty?' his voice was low and dangerous, once more Janus, his breath warm on her bare shoulder, his head bent so far forward she couldn't see his face in the mirror.   
  
'To complete my assignment of course.' She ran the tissue under the cold tap and placed it firmly against her cut.   
  
He recalled her words earlier. 'And if I were to 'compromise' your assignment?' he raised his eyes and they were filled with shadows.  
  
'Then I would kill you.' Her voice was like ice. His hands tightened on the counter, the knuckles white and she could feel the tension in his lean body.   
  
'Would you?'  
  
She turned, and leaned back. 'I would regret it.'  
  
He laughed, a half strangled sound that choked from his throat.   
  
She had to ask. 'And I? If you had to kill me, could you do it?' she bit her lip as she waited for his answer.  
  
Alec's eyes suddenly were as cold and as hard as steel. He lifted his hands as if he was going to place them on her shoulders, and then as quick as a snake he clamped them round her throat, his thumbs digging firmly into her windpipe...  
  
*  
  
Lucinda's thumb eased off the safety. 'Who exactly are you Mr. Bond, and I suggest you don't try lying to me.'  
  
Bond remained calm. 'Is there any point in trying to lie to you? You know who I am as well as I know who you are.'  
  
Lucinda shrugged.   
  
'So what do you get from all this?' Bond asked. 'Why do you remain loyal to Deronda?'  
  
She gave a slow catlike smile. 'Power. What else? Sorry to disappoint you, but there is no underlying motive to my actions. I'm simply out for everything I can get.'  
  
'At least you're honest.' Bond conceded.   
  
She fired then, but Bond anticipated it, and with the usual grace and languor he threw himself out of the way. The bullet hit the mirror above him, and he was showered in tiny pieces of glass. Seven years bad luck, but not for him tonight he decided. He was quick, Lucinda a bad shot, it meant the odds were reasonably stacked in his favour. He threw himself across the room, hitting her ankles and knocking her over, she crumpled down upon him, and he grappled the gun from her hand. She was struggling like a wild cat, and bored he slammed the butt of the gun into her head. She slumped, unconscious, and he stood, straightening his tie. Without a backwards glance at the fallen woman, he walked from the room.  
  
*  
  
In shock Ashleigh stepped backwards, and fell heavily against the bathroom counter. Alec's thumbs continued to cruelly cut off her air supply, she gazed up at him in horror, her hands scrabbled against his, her short nails gouging into his hands. Once more he was demonic above her, his face had the blankness of a killer, she struggled, but every time she moved, his grasp got tighter. Her knees gave way, and she reached out desperately, hoping to press her own thumbs into the soft flesh of his face, or into the small indentation next to the ball of his shoulder, anywhere that would cause him pain and make him let go.  
  
He dropped her.  
  
Frantically drawing in breath she fell to the floor, one hand rubbing her throat, the other still clinging above her to the counter. She looked up at him with frightened eyes, and pressed back, trying to get as far away as possible from him. The coldness had left his face.  
  
'I could kill you anytime I wanted to,' he said, 'But unless you present me with a reason to, I won't.'  
  
Taking her hand he helped her to her feet, and confused she slumped against him, her heart racing, holding onto him for dear life. Her anger kicked in.  
  
'You evil bastard!' she swore, pounding her fists against his chest, 'Bastard! Bastard!'  
  
Like an adult soothing an upset child, he continued to hold her, until her anger passed. She looked up at him. 'I will never hurt you again,' he promised, 'Unless you make me. I have no argument with you.'  
  
'Why not?' she hissed, refusing to let the matter drop. 'I'm English. I'm born of the nation that betrayed your parents, I work for the organisation that you betrayed, and my godfather is the man that killed you twice. I know what you're doing Alec, I'm your revenge.' She paused as she heard her own words. 'And perhaps you are mine...'  
  
She had never rebelled, not once throughout her entire life, simply following orders, living a quiet life. This was her revenge against everyone that had ever controlled her, dictated her life and actions to her, and a warmth flowed through her body, her eyes widened at this realisation, and she tilted head back, pulling him down until he kissed her again, clinging to him, kissing him as if her life depended on it.  
  
He pulled back slightly, so their lips still brushed as he spoke. 'Stay. Tonight, here, stay...'  
  
She kissed him softly. 'No.'  
  
'Just tonight,'  
  
'I can't.' she tried to step away, but he held her tightly reminding her of his strength. Her eyes hardened and she remembered the events of only five minutes ago. She yanked away, and he let her go, realising he was going too far.   
  
'I'm used to getting my own way, Ash.' He regained control, running a steady hand over his blond hair.   
  
'Not tonight.' She was as stubborn as he was, as her father had been, as James was, she had made up her mind and nothing would change it now. 'Don't get me wrong Alec, I want to. But its gone too far, and its getting far too personal. This has to stop. I can't let you get in the way of this assignment, I can't get involved. Goodbye Alec.'  
  
She pressed her lips against his in a final kiss, but he didn't respond, and she knew then that she had lost him. She felt as sudden flare of pain as she realised this, and she closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them he had turned from her. She snatched the keys to the Mercedes. Feeling as if she was making the worst decision of her life, she drove back to her hotel. Only when the door shut behind her, and she was alone in her room, did she let a single tear fall down her face. 


	16. Chapter Fourteen

Deronda tapped his fingers on the edge of the table. The room they were sat in was large, dark and square. A screen behind them flickered with the occasional pinpoint of light. Ah, the typical state room of the would be world dominator. It was so scripted, it was almost a cliché the other man thought, resisting the urge to let out a hollow laugh.   
  
'How can I help you, Janus?' Deronda asked, as if this was a simple business meeting and not a potentially lethal plot between two extremely dangerous and powerful men.   
  
Alec gave a slow, shark like smile, forcing his face into the action. 'We can help each other, Deronda, you know that,' he said smoothly, with all the diplomacy he had acquired over the years.  
  
He hated having to kiss this bastard's ass. Teeth gritted, smile forced, oh how the mighty had fallen.   
  
Deronda returned an equally cold smile. 'Really? I doubt that Alec. I work alone. And quite frankly I'm surprised you came here.'  
  
Alec refused to rise. 'I go where I please Caleb. Always have, and I always will.'  
  
Deronda's eyes narrowed, and he shook his head as if he couldn't quite believe Alec Trevelyan's arrogance. 'You're nothing anymore,' he hissed, 'New powers are rising, and your star is fast falling. You're no longer feared... you're tolerated.'  
  
Alec shrugged. 'Perhaps. Maybe that's why I am here.'  
  
He felt like he was begging for an audience. Deronda remained silent, holding his court. Bastard, Alec swore inside his head, hating every minute of this charade.  
  
Leaning forward, he spoke quietly so Deronda would have to strain to hear. 'I'm hear to make you an offer Caleb.'  
  
'For what?'  
  
It was a close thing but Alec just managed not to roll his eyes. 'Hermes.'  
  
Both men's heads snapped round as a door swung open. Ice cool Lucinda Elliot walked in, only she had the arrogance and the money to invade Deronda's private rooms. She gave a smile at the sight of Alec that verged on a smirk. How fake everyone is, Alec thought to himself. We're all pretending to be something we're not, when in reality, all we want to power, money, and fame. We are filled with greed, and do not care who gets hurt as long as we achieve our grubby little desires. He held back a sigh. He was sick of this. But deep inside his greedy little ambitious self was crying out with the desire to possess Hermes for himself. And he would.  
  
Lucinda walked over to him, and as she leaned over to kiss the smooth side of his face he saw a dark bruise on her hairline. Then her perfume was surrounding him, cloying and thick, and he forgot about it.  
  
'Alec,' she said sweetly. He barely managed a nod, resisting the urge to flinch as her fingers trailed over his scarred cheek. 'I haven't seen you for so long,' she reprimanded.  
  
Deronda watched all this frowning, and impatiently he gestured at the seat between them. Alec refused to look at her, despising her blonde ice queen act.   
  
'I believe you were making some kind of offer, before I so rudely interrupted. Please, do continue...' her voice was honeyed.  
  
Alec was convinced Deronda was royally pissed off at Lucinda's presence but ignored it, and was still staring at Alec.   
  
'Fifty million.'  
  
The figure bounced off the wall, being absorbed. Deronda's laugh shattered through it. 'Fifty million?'  
  
'Dollars,' Alec confirmed. 'US dollars.'  
  
'Really Alec?' Lucinda gave that horribly familiar little smirk of hers. 'I would have thought that Sterling would have been your currency of choice. I've heard you've got quite a taste for all things English....'  
  
Alec's eyes flickered in her direction, suddenly unnerved by her jibe. What did she know? Or was she referring to his defection? He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach...  
  
Deronda by this point had pressed his joined fingers to his lips. 'Don't insult me. Hermes is worth at least two billion US. You do have that kind of money don't you Alec?'  
  
Almost coyly Alec tilted his head. 'I still have my investments. And a few profitable businesses here and there. I'll offer one billion.'  
  
Caleb raised an eyebrow. 'No'. Alec jumped in quickly.   
  
'One billion... and information.'  
  
Deronda paused. 'Information?'  
  
'I know who's on your case. Intimately you could say.'  
  
Deronda was definitely interested. Leaning over he shook Alec's hand. 'Done.'  
  
So Alec spoke. Of MI6. Of James Bond. And of Ashleigh Kain. 


	17. Chapter Fifteen

The door slammed behind him and he realised it had happened a moment too late to react.  
  
In the darkness shadows were stirring, and as his eyes adjusted he saw the bulky shapes that moved within.  
  
Shit. Shit. Shit.  
  
He had been half expecting this. It was ridiculous to think that Caleb would simply let him walk out. Now all he had was to hope that he would still be able to walk out alive.  
  
Weaknesses. His life was filled with them, where he had once been strong and untouchable, now he let weakness touch his life, and he could be broken. And now it seemed he would be. His back, fragile but held straight gave a throb at the anticipation of the pain that was coming. He swallowed, feeling a strange feeling begin to pulse somewhere deep within him. With a flicker of surprise he realised it was fear. And something else. Guilt.  
  
He couldn't deny it. He had wanted Hermes for himself. And if Deronda had given it to him, he would have snatched it. Power. Sweet, heady power. It was his drug, his life source. Blood didn't flow through his veins, ambition did.  
  
He didn't know why he had gone to Deronda. For himself? For Hermes? For Ashleigh? He had a sudden image of her, one hand clasping a glass of wine as red as blood, leaning back in her chair, a slim white arm flung over the back. Her eyes, as dark as coffee gazing at him without fear, filled instead with scorn as he mocked her and her life. His fists involuntarily clenched, as her pink lips taunted him, as she so casually walked away. He had betrayed her. or had he? Was he simply laying bait, forcing Deronda to act instead of hiding away? Or was he making sure Deronda remembered him? He decided it would be a shame if she died, but there would always be casualties. He was sure she could handle herself.  
  
They had had a truce. At least he was fulfilling his side of the deal. Honour among thieves. He had confirmed it was Deronda. He had not underestimated his rival, he was acting exactly as Alec would have. Keep your friends close but keep your enemies closer. And crush them the first opportunity you have. He would not have let Deronda walk away, and now Alec faced his punishment for daring to challenge Deronda.  
  
But he knew one thing. One way or another he would destroy Caleb Deronda. Whatever it took.  
  
The shadows were moving closer. It was time to fight.  
  
He lashed out with his fist, feeling it connect with hard muscle. There were two of them, huge and solid. Alec knew he hadn't a hope in hell of getting out of this, but he would not admit defeat so lightly.  
  
He fought like a madman, flooded with adrenaline, using every technique he had ever learnt, and every dirty trick he had picked up along the way. Blood flowed from a split lip, trickled into his eye from a gash in his brow bone, his entire body ached from the vicious blows, but still he fought.  
  
Finally though his arms were caught and pinned behind his back, and he spat blood from his mouth. The other heavy approached, silver glinting on his knuckles. The third blow winded him, he fell to his knees. On the sixth he collapsed to the floor, suddenly released from the bruising support of the heavy holding him.  
  
Blows rained down upon him, until finally the pain ceased, and he fell into the blackness that knew no limits.  
  
Across the city, in the gym of her hotel, Ashleigh upped the level on her running machine. She tried to think of nothing put the pounding of her trainers upon the track, the rhythm of her heart against the rhythm of her stride, and forced Alec Trevelyan from her mind. The final push was coming. She could feel it. And she was ready for it. 


	18. Chapter Sixteen

For Siobhan 5, for inspiring me to take this in another direction, and for all her help with the story. Thank you for the dialogue suggestions as well, hope you can see them!  Much appreciated and it was much needed.  alley.

*

The blood had dried on his lips, painfully sealing them together.  With an effort that tore the gash apart once more, he forced his tongue through to lick his lips.  The coppery taste of blood filled his parched mouth.  

With a click, an elegant pair of leather boots suddenly filled his view, the slim metal stiletto heel tapping almost impatiently against the cold concrete floor.

Lucinda was crouching next to him, a tender hand stroking his short cropped hair.

'I'm sorry that this had to happen, Alec,' she was whispering to him, 'Truly I am, but you couldn't expect Caleb to just let you walk in here, could you?'

He gave a grim smile that cracked his lips further, alarmed Lucinda ran her thumb over the new flow of blood.  'I wouldn't have expected anything else, Lucinda, my dear.'

She gave no sign of having heard him, let alone the sarcasm in his voice, she just continued on with her whispery monologue.  'He wanted to kill you, you know?  A single bullet there and then and we would have been rid of the biggest thorn in our sides.  He's frightened of you Alec, frightened of who you are, and what your name still means.  It's why he taunts you, because he knows that if you wanted you are the only one who could still rise against him, you are the only one he truly fears.  C'mon Alec, rise up, oppose him, stand up against him, for every humiliation he has forced upon you, for every insult, for his daring to take your power, for this.  Rise up.  With me…'

Her hands had been stroking his arm as he had been sprawled on the ground at her feet.  Her blue eyes, china blue, and as innocent and as wide as a doll's, blinked slowly at him, her thick lashes fluttering gently, pleading. 

'We have always had fun together,' she smiled, 'Always.  We have that history, Alec, you and I, we're two of a kind.  We understand each other, we were so good together.  We could be again.  And we could take Hermes.  Forget your silly little English spy…'  Lucinda's fingers had involuntarily tightened on his ribs, and he gave a little shudder of pain and rolled onto his back, slowly, painfully.  With an inward sigh of relief he thanked whoever it was that protected him that his back was still in one piece, that it hadn't crumbled in ruins again.  Although it did ache more than he thought was good for him, and he could feel that a rib or two had been broken.  He had been lucky, he had to grudgingly admit.

He gave a hollow laugh as he lay on his back.  'She…' he began, but Lucinda cut him off forcefully.  

'Forget her.  She is nothing now, she can't touch us now.  Those who play with fire will only get burned.  We are the future now.  You, and I, and Hermes.'

He didn't ask how she had known about Ashleigh.  She was now tucking something inside his jacket, carefully avoiding his ribs.  'These will give you and one of your men access…'

To where he wondered, but Lucinda didn't give him a chance to ask.  He was fading once more, and he struggled to concentrate on her voice.  'Caleb won't be around much in the beginning, it will give you a chance to get on board, and conceal yourselves.  The perfect opportunity will arise, I promise you… I won't fail you Alec, don't fail me…'

Her voice was cajoling once more, but was cut off as the door opened, she abruptly stood.

'You there!'  She ordered, 'There is a car waiting outside.  Take him to it.  Gently you oafs!  Can't you see he's injured?'

Strong hands were lifting him once more, holding him, but with care this time, and not a trace of malice.  He felt himself being lifted, prayed this wasn't another trap, and with a sigh of relief, and a sudden surge of pain, he passed out again.

*

The docks where Gregory Fraser's body had been pulled from the water were just visible in the distance.  Grey mist, damp and cold surrounded James and Ashleigh as they walked along the water's edge.  Poor Fraser, Bond thought, in a rare moment of pity, he had simply been in the wrong place in the wrong time.  He wondered how much Fraser had actually known, if anything?  Killed for a swipe card, so Elliott and Deronda had been able to access the final component needed for Hermes.  It was the only theory Bond had so far.  Fraser would get a star on the wall, and a memorial service, all that any agent could hope for when killed in action.

The path was slippery as it would be in any city in December.  Already Christmas decorations were going up, and the streets were filled with markets and the scent of roasting chestnuts.  It did little to cheer either of them; instead they watched the granite coloured water slosh and break over the side.  A wave crashed against the wall, sending foam high into the air, and sweeping up over the side, carefully Ashleigh stepped backwards to avoid the water, and he heard her sigh.

She was dressed in black pinstriped trousers, a black jumper and a black overcoat.  The only splash of colour on her came from the thin deep red velvet scarf tied around her throat, and the pink of her lips. Even the bruises on her temple had faded in this dark light.  It was as if her physical appearance reflected her state of mind, for days she had been dark, quiet, and introverted.  Now they were together, and they had barely said two words to each other, beyond commenting on the weather.   

Suddenly, she spoke.  'You're certain it's the place.'

'Beyond a doubt.'

'So, soon?'

'Soon.'

'Right.'

'Are you prepared for it?'

'Physically?  Never been fitter.'

'And mentally?'

'Fine.'

'Nothing you want to talk about?'

Ashleigh turned to him amazed.  He was looking decidedly uncomfortable.  'James, you never want to talk.  Talking isn't your style.'

'I'm aware of that.'  James ran an awkward hand through his hair, despite the fact that the wind was blowing it in all directions, and therefore the gesture was futile.  'Just, with everything that has happened, I thought you might need to.  After everything with…'

'With Alec?'  She coldly supplied for him, aware that he was unable to say the name himself.

'I suppose.'

'Actually yes…'  Ashleigh suddenly changed direction.  'I need to ask you something.  And I want you to be honest with me.'

She ignored the stifled look that appeared on his face.  'You knew Alec was alive.  Didn't you?'

'Why do you say that?'

Ashleigh frowned and pushed her hands deep into her pockets, staring out across the sea. 'From the moment I told you Alec was alive, I realised that you already knew…'

'Ashleigh…'

'Don't interrupt me James.  You knew.  I know you did.  You were quick to deny it, but there was no disbelief in your voice, no protests that it couldn't possibly be true.  You simply said 'Alec Trevelyan is dead.  I know because I killed him'.  But you knew.  You knew…'

Her voice trailed off until it was lost in the wind.  

'I didn't know.' James finally admitted after what felt like forever.  'But I didn't believe he was dead.  In Russia, the first time, I saw him die, or I believed I did.  But in Cuba, I couldn't.  It was a nagging doubt that gnawed at me since, and, since I'm being honest, it's a relief, it's a bloody relief to finally know one way or the other.  But nothing Alec does, or has done surprises me anymore.'

They were silent for some time, each lost in their own thoughts about the same man.  James noticed the way her fingers continually rubbed her throat, a recent habit, and a sudden instinct hit him.  He turned her to face him, his fingers deftly unknotting her scarf.  On her pale throat were bruises, faint, but still obvious.  He examined them, tilting her jaw one way and the other, noticing the familiar pattern they took.  She bit her lip, the only sign of distress as she patiently endured his observations.  The final test, he lightly placed his hands around her throat, and saw the way his fingertips matched the bruises almost perfectly.  His face hardened.

'He did this to you.'  It was a statement, not a question.  'When?'

She refused to look at him.  'The night you were with Lucinda.  We had dinner together.'

'And he attacked you?'

'In a way… yes.'

'Why?'

'I suppose I provoked him.  I asked him if he could ever kill me….'

'So he decided to show you that he could.  Did he hurt you?'

'Not really.  Frightened me a bit.  Made me open my eyes to a few things.'

James hesitated.  Then sighed.  'Tell me.  Tell me everything you said to him.  Everything he said to you.'

She was reluctant at first, but her voice grew stronger as she recounted the night's events.  'He asked me what would happen if he got in the way of the mission.  Compromised it.  I said I would kill him, and that I would regret it.  Then I asked him if he could ever kill me.' She gestured at her throat.  'As you can see, he was quick to make his point.  And then…'

'Go on,' James prompted her, seeing the colour raise in her cheeks.

'I think he apologised to me.  He told me he had no reason to harm me, and until I gave him a reason to… well.' She shrugged.  'He asked me to stay with him that night.'

'And did you?'

She shook her head.  'No.  I told him no, and that I thought I was getting in too deep.  I chose the mission over him James, are you relieved now?  Isn't that what you wanted?  But he surprised me then.  He… he almost begged me to stay.  I never thought he would be the type to beg…'

'He isn't.' James replied stonily, feeling a flicker of fear for his goddaughter begin deep in his stomach.  If she had rejected Alec… then Alec would be out for revenge.  He had never taken rejection well.  James felt a sudden urge to get Ashleigh on the next plane home, as far away from Russia as possible.  Who knows what Alec could do in this frame of mind?

Suddenly, in a panic, he reached for her, and grabbed her shoulders.  'Listen to me, Ashleigh, if only for this one time, listen to me.  You do not simply reject Alec Trevelyan…'

'James,' she struggled under his tight grasp, 'James, you're hurting me.  James!'

He realised how tightly he was holding her, and the look of pain on her face made him slowly release her.

'Its done now.  He'll just have to live with it.'  She turned away from him, and watched a ship that was slowly sailing across the horizon.

Yes, he would have to live with it, James thought darkly, but would he let Ashleigh live with it?  He had no idea what Alec would do, and the fear for Ashleigh's safety continued to grow.

'You never answered me.'

Lost in thought, James dragged himself back to his goddaughter.  'Sorry?'

'You never answered me, when I asked you if you are relieved now?  That I chose the mission over my heart.  A right little chip off the block, aren't I?'

She was angry, deliberately provoking him.  He ignored it.  'Do you love him?'

'Alec?'

'Yes.'

'No.' It was painful to her own ears.  'I have needs, and Alec was there to fulfil them, but I don't believe in love, James, because every time I love someone they leave me.  My mother, my father, and you.'

He was surprised at this.  'I don't understand.'

'You, James, every time I spent anytime with you when I was growing up, you were never there.  You would get called away on 'business' or when you were there, your mind was else where.  It wasn't your fault, I understood, but it felt like everyone I loved rejected me in some way or another.  So no.  I don't let myself fall in love with anyone.'

'Surely, you've had boyfriends…'

'Yes.  Plenty of them, thank you.  But every time it got to that stage, it was a mechanical reply, 'I love you too,' easily said, never meant.  I don't believe in it, and I won't let it get in the way of my career.  Alec Trevelyan is out of my life, and he will stay there.  We have a mission to complete, and it will be done.'

They stared at each other then and realised how similar they were.  Without another word they turned, and carried on walking in silence.


	19. Chapter Seventeen

'Its our man in St. Petersburg.'  
  
Moneypenny had burst into M's office a moment earlier, barely remembering to knock in her haste. And from that moment, M's usually ordered world had been thrown into chaos.   
  
Offering assistance... permission to intervene in the mission... for agents best interests... the words were floating in front of M's eyes, her head was filled with countless possibilities. She refused to let her doubts get in the way of this, this was an opportunity far too good to pass up.  
  
Finally, she smiled. 'Well. At last...' she stood and headed for the small drinks cupboard she kept. 'This calls for a celebration I think.'  
  
Without another word she handed the second glass of bourbon to the usually composed redhead.   
  
Moneypenny didn't drink, instead she gazed into the depths of the warm liquid as if she could find the answers to her unspoken questions there. M glanced at her, and frowned. They had worked together for far too long for either woman to be able to disguise their emotions with any success. Sometimes out of respect they simply ignored it, and remained on a professional level. Other times... it all had to come out into the open.   
  
'Spit it out, woman,' M ordered, taking a sip. 'You obviously don't approve.'  
  
'I'm concerned,' Moneypenny admitted. 'How can we be certain of this offer of assistance? And why now? We'll be putting agents at risk, unnecessary risk.'  
  
'Agents are always at risk,' M said brusquely. 'You know that, and I know that. But I do share your concern. At the moment though, we don't have any other options, so if you do have any suggestions, Moneypenny, now would be the time to share them with me.'  
  
Moneypenny remained silent, knowing it was better to do so than to argue with M when she was in this frame of mind.  
  
'We have several agents in close pursuit of our man in St. Petersburg, and if I judge that he is deliberately leading our agents into danger, then I will give the order for his elimination. However, contrary to popular belief, he's actually very fond of living.'  
  
'But why now?' Moneypenny insisted. 'Why has he suddenly decided to cooperate?'  
  
M hesitated. 'I can't imagine him doing anything that didn't ultimately suit his own interests, but he has always been bound to us. It was part of the agreement we signed. He'll have his own agenda, lets just hope that it's in line with ours.'  
  
In the end everything boiled down to a matter of numbers, M mused, and she felt safe surrounded by them. It was a calculated risk, gambling on his cooperation, against the risk of this being an elaborate plot. She hoped, that with all the intelligence they had on the man, that he might decide against rebelling against the system. She hoped...  
  
'Yes,' she half said to herself. 'Yes, it would be very easy for him to entrap them. We must simply pray that he doesn't. Or that if he does, 007 and Agent Kain will be able to escape with their lives.'  
  
Emotions were pushed aside, the advancement of the mission was all that mattered, business was resumed. 'Tell our man he has his permission.'  
  
*  
  
The building was a dirty grey relic left over from the poverty of the 80's, a series of squared off buildings piled haphazardly on top of each other, and surrounded by a vast overgrown and weed filled garden. Guards patrolled the entrance gates, but in the depths of the garden, with the aid of a small pair of wire cutters the agents had made it in. Carefully concealed they edged under the wire fence, and into the blackness.  
  
The three of them sprinted across the grounds, until they were safely sheltered from view in an alcove. The plans, taken from Lucinda, were thrown quickly on the ground and examined closely for the final time.   
  
'There.' Bond jabbed his finger down upon a small basement room that would hopefully give them the best chance of access to the rest of the building. 'We're agreed?' Dmitrov nodded, and Ashleigh, with a quick final check, slowly nodded too. The reluctance of the gesture didn't escape Bond, and he frowned as he secured the plans and stood.  
  
With a sudden gesture he reached out and caught Ashleigh by the elbow, pulling her out of ear shot, whispering harshly into her ear.  
  
'Drag your head out of whatever clouds you've placed it in, Kain, I won't work with an agent who is not 110% committed to the mission. This is it,' he shook her to reinforce the message, 'And I am not going to carry you through this. If you die tonight, you die. More lives than yours are at stake here...'  
  
Eyes blazing she snatched her arm back, and glared at him. 'Thank you for your advice 007, I'll bear it in mind when I'm covering your ass as you barge in guns blazing, playing the hero once more.'  
  
Bond watched her as she hissed at him, and knew then she was focused once more back within the mission, for the moment at least. For how long she could keep her concentration up he didn't know... If she was like him, once the action started, she would be completely absorbed in the mission, and nothing could deter her from completing it. He hoped she was...  
  
'Keep close to Dmitrov,' he suddenly ordered her. She blinked, surprised, the plan had been to completely spilt up, and he saw the brief flash of anger flare up once more, then die, and she nodded. Neither Dmitrov or Ashleigh looked pleased by this, having another agent so close by could seriously hamper any attempts of concealment.   
  
Bond squinted up at the sky, then checked his watch. Ashleigh and Dmitrov were stood there, watching him, rigid with anticipation, Ashleigh was close to shaking, her fists loosely clenched, ready, so ready... Bond nodded, and so it began...  
  
Bond sprinted to the right, Dmitrov, with Ashleigh close behind, to the left, already fading into the near blackness  
  
In the deep shadow of a large hedge, they paused, waiting with bated breath as a guard marched mere metres away... Dmitrov shot her a look in the darkness that showed his displeasure at having been stuck with baby-sitting duties and Ashleigh bristled.   
  
'Keep close to the building,' in a whisper his accent was even heavier, and Ashleigh leaned in closer to hear him. 'We're heading east, circling round...' the guard had gone, 'Go...'  
  
They ran once more, and Ashleigh felt the adrenaline kick in, she could run for miles tonight if needs be, and never be caught...  
  
They skirted round the edge of the building, and paused. High above them, bright floodlights stood proudly, cutting through the darkness in a wide sweep. Seemingly innocent looking security guards still paced back and forth, their eyes penetrating into the night. Ashleigh stopped breathing as a pair of icy blue eyes fell upon her, and seemed to linger there for what felt like forever, but they moved on, the small orange flame of a lighter flared, a cigarette was lit, and the guard continued on his way. She let her breath out slowly and watched the sweep of the light with Dmitrov, assessing the best moment to run. The light was coming back towards them, and Dmitrov leant back to her.  
  
'On my count, one... two...' the light reached the limit of its widest arch, 'Three!' Dmitrov ran, chased by the light as it swung back, aware of nothing but keeping forward, keeping his speed up, determined to reach the other corner of the building.  
  
But he was alone. At the moment he had run, Ashleigh had been close behind him, but her hairs had suddenly raised on the back of her neck, every instinct had screamed at her to stay where she was, and she was sure that a pair of cold blue eyes were once more upon her. Fading back into the shadows, she had watched anxiously as Dmitrov had sprinted forward, and then disappeared into the night...  
  
And then the bright light revealed something that made her blood run cold. Four guards had fallen upon Dmitrov, were forcing the struggling man to the floor as he fought back hard, but was easily overpowered by the four strong men. He was on the ground now, and one of the guards was holding something in his hand, he was coming closer to Dmitrov...  
  
She was blinded suddenly by the light hitting her full in the face... a flashlight, yells, and she heard the pounding of feet rushing towards her... For a moment she remained shock still, one hand thrown up to cover her eyes from the harsh light, but reality snapped in and she turned and ran.  
  
Her only hope was to throw them off her tail she thought as she ran in a jagged path, cutting across the garden, suddenly changing direction. She was torn... did she try to reach James, tell him about Dmitrov, or did she get the hell away from there and hope for the best? If she ran to James she risked giving his position away, but if she abandoned him...   
  
Shouts were echoing around the garden, James must surely be aware that something had happened by now... She sprinted round a corner, and found herself in the area that they had started from... more men were running towards her.. she slid to a stop.. turned to flee in the direction she had just come from, saw the guards who were following her had finally caught up... Her head snapped back and forth between the two and then she sprinted right, taken the only option left to her...  
  
She felt as if she had ran into a brick wall, she looked up dazed, saw those cold blue eyes smirking down at her, then strong arms pinned her, more were grabbing her, she kicked out, kicking, screaming, even biting, anything to try and fight them off... but it was hopeless, she was dragged to the ground, and held there, hands grabbed her head to hold it still, and a sickly sweet smell surrounded her.  
  
As the cloth was placed over her nose and mouth, and the sweet smell threatened to choke her, she was aware of laugher, and those blue eyes staring down at her. As the grogginess took her, she could still hear him laughing.... 


	20. Chapter Eighteen

Bond was on the other side of the building, when in the quiet of the night, he heard the scuffling from the west. He froze, and with a sinking feeling, noticed that guards which had patrolled to the east of him, had now abandoned their posts.   
  
He could obviously see the advantage to this, the guards apparent stupidity worked in his favour. There was no reason to relax just yet. But he knew what the sounds, and the guards disappearance had meant. He forced it from his mind. He worked alone. If they had been captured... then they had no one to blame but themselves and their own stupidity or inexperience... He didn't want to work in a team, he had been forced into it, he could work alone again now. But...   
  
The decision was made in a split second, he turned and ran back the way he had came.   
  
The screaming and the shouting hit him first, and there was genuine fear in those cries. He put on a burst of speed, nearly sliding as he rounded the corner, and stopped dead.  
  
Ashleigh, pinned on the floor, surrounded by guards, yet still trying to twist away from them, one simply reached down, and Ashleigh slumped. There was no sign of Dmitrov. Two of them lifted her prone body, while the others spoke rapidly in Russian. One distinguished himself as the leader, the voices carrying in the cold night.  
  
'There is a third,' he gestured, 'Find him.'  
  
Bond had already hung around far too long, and he was extremely exposed. Sprinting away he cursed to himself, time had been lost, two agents taken, he had to get inside, and he had to do it now. There was no point in struggling into the basement and hoping to covertly work through the building, he had to get to Kain and Dmitrov. He paused for a moment, and surveyed the situation.  
  
Alec Trevelyan had been in his mind recently, and now something Alec used to say came back to him. Half of everything is fate. The other half is luck. And it appeared that tonight, James Bond's luck was in, as his attention was caught by the events at what appeared to be the main gate. A large lorry had pulled up, its headlights slicing through the night. With a slow, measuring glance at the building, Bond decided that this would be his best opportunity, and decided to take his chances.  
  
Inside the lorry, Leon was bored, and tired. Every month he made a delivery to this place, always late at night, and he hated it. With its stupid argumentative guards and oppressive looks, it always gave him the creeps, charity or no charity. God only knew what they did with the animals he delivered, but they needed enough. Leon shuddered, rather the animals than him. As usual his plan was to get in as quickly as possible, get the things signed for, then get out as quickly as possible and home. Ahead of him, the sliding metal doors slid up for him, into the same usual warehouse, still in the smallest building, covered in ivy, and as utterly depressing as the rest of them. As he drove under the door, there was a loud thud, and a squawking began in the back, a horrible half human cry that shattered Leon's nerves every time he heard it. Banging on the panel that separated the cab from its convoy, he screamed at it to shut up, and turned up the radio.   
  
Inside the solitary scientist waited. Leon slid from the cab and handed the paper work to him. 'Sign,' he said in a bored voice. The scientist, doctor, whatever he was, did so in the same bored manner. Moving round to the back, Leon opened up the lorry, and removed the orangutan that was housed there.   
  
'So what do you guys do with these things?' he asked. The science guy just looked at him. 'Oh right...' Leon shut up, he never got a straight answer from any of these guys, he didn't know why he bothered sometimes.   
  
Well, it was over for another month, Leon thought relieved as he backed out the warehouse, and not a moment too soon.  
  
Inside the scientist was thinking along the same lines, his shift finished soon, all he had to do was deal with the shipment, and he could finally get home. The footstep behind him startled him.  
  
'Finally, one of you bastards have decided to help me,' he turned, and stared at the tall dark haired man that stood in front of him, dressed head to toe in black, and most definitely not belonging here. 'Who the hell are you?' he challenged.  
  
In one swift movement, Bond had the cord round the man's neck, and pulled him close. 'Nobody important,' he muttered as he fought to hold the dying man, who was pressed back against Bond, his hands pulling at the thin wire around his neck. Finally though his struggles desisted, and Bond let him slump to the ground. With a small click the wire slid back to be concealed within his watch, handy little device that, he thought, he believed Q had borrowed the idea off the Russians in the first place.   
  
Rummaging through the lab coat pockets, he found what he was looking for, a small swipe card, for a moment he debated putting the lab coat on as well, before deciding that there was no point. There was no point in trying to blend in, if anyone saw him, well, they'd get similar treatment to the man who had provided the card. Now, to find Ashleigh and Dmitrov.   
  
White corridor, after white corridor faced him. Bond slipped down them as quickly as possible, disturbed by the increasing amount of airlocks he saw, and how sanitised everything was. And if they were holding a virus as dangerous as Hermes, they would need the airlocks.   
  
It, of course, couldn't last long. The guards were well aware their security had been breached, and the hallways were plunged into sudden darkness. Next moment, an ear splitting alarm began and the red emergency lighting came on. This was not good, Bond decided with a grim expression, this could only mean they had found the scientist in the warehouse. Swiping the card into a key slot, his theory was confirmed as the access light refused to turn green.   
  
Nothing else to do but run. He ran, trying to reach the door at the other end of the corridor, only to be met by guards pouring through it. He ran back... more guards.   
  
And so, standing alone in the length of corridor, Bond realised the game was up. Outnumbered at least ten to one, he realised that it would be difficult for even him to get out of this one. And sometimes, a sacrifice was needed... 


	21. Chapter Nineteen

Through a burning haze, Ashleigh realised she was being lifted away from the cold floor that had been her bed for the last God knows how long. Her throat burned, and she coughed, feeling as if she was fighting through a fog, her lungs on fire. The coughing fit worsened and she slipped from the grasp of whoever was holding her, one knee scraping painfully on concrete before she was once more hoisted into the air, and forced to stand upright  
  
'Walk,' a voice ordered, 'Walk.'  
  
Walking, that was easy enough, she could do that, one foot in front of the other, she did it every day, why couldn't she do it properly now? Her body was refusing to cooperate, and confusion swamped her. One arm had been grabbed and twisted painfully behind her back, and was now being twisted further still as she struggled to obey. Blinking, she fought to clear her vision, peering into the darkened corridor, trying to focus her tired eyes.   
  
Ahead of her there was a figure, being marched along at gun point but remaining stonily calm, despite the barrel of the gun being pressed hard into his cheekbone. With a rush of relief she realised it was Bond. She didn't dare say anything, but she was suddenly very glad for his presence.   
  
How long had they walked through the harsh red lit corridors? Time had lost sense of meaning to her, she was shaking, half with cold, half with fear as she realised this was probably one of the most dangerous situations she had ever been in. And she realised she had no idea how to deal with it. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, she couldn't tell if they were from the remnants of the chloroform, or the fear that filled her. She was desperate to reach out for James, for comfort, for support, for something, but she couldn't.   
  
After an eternity they stopped, and Bond and Kain were forced into a small clinical room, one wall completely mirrored, and Ashleigh tried not to look directly at it, refusing to acknowledge how hopeless it all looked. Still woozy from the chloroform she was propelled forward fully into the room by the gorilla holding her. She growled low in her throat, if he twisted it any further he would snap her arm. James wasn't much better, the pistol still pressed hard into the side of his face, he, unlike her, was wary and aware of everything, quietly observing everything that happened. Finally his eyes met hers, and they flickered, but nothing could be said, no words to console or to reassure, they were at the mercy of these goons and the Doctor.   
  
The man had been standing in the shadows of the room, seemingly gazing at his own reflection. But now he stepped forward, and Ashleigh found herself staring at him half with fascination, half with repulsion. He was short and balding, what hair he did have left was dark and cut close to his head, and Ashleigh decided that there was something almost fishlike in his small glassy black eyes, and rubbery lips. He wore small glasses, perched precariously on the end of his nose, he was staring at Bond and her with contempt.   
  
Silence reigned in the room, so much so that Ashleigh thought she could hear her heart pounding. The Doctor had removed his glasses and was slowly polishing them. Perhaps it was the after effects of the chloroform making her giddy, but Ash was suddenly taken over with an almost hysterical urge to burst out laughing, anything to fill the room with something other than the eerie nothingness.   
  
Finally, with a little cough that could easily become irritating, the Doctor finally spoke.   
  
'Deronda is far from happy that his compound has been breached.'  
  
A small hysterical giggle escaped from Ashleigh, causing Bond and the Doctor to glare at her. He's hardly going to be pleased, is he? Ashleigh found the thought strangely amusing. She had to. There was nothing else but fear and despair.   
  
The Doctor continued. 'As you are so interested in what we are doing here, Deronda has allowed me to give you both a demonstration.'  
  
'A chance to see the good scientist working on the cures that could potentially save millions of children's lives? How heartwarming.'  
  
Bond's tone was scornful, and Ashleigh stared at him, amazed that he seemed not to be experiencing a single iota of the fear that she was feeling.  
  
The doctor gave a small thin lipped smile that made Ashleigh's blood freeze. 'I was warned about your sense of humour, Mr. Bond, but it appears that we find rather different things amusing.'  
  
Bond merely gave the same thin lipped smile back. The Doctor gave a nod, some kind of signal and a switch was flicked. The mirror had been revealed as a two way, Bond and Ashleigh were now staring into the next room.   
  
Inside there was a single door, and a metal table.  
  
'And so our demonstration.' The Doctor smiled as the light above the door in the room changed from red to green, and the mechanical hiss of an airlock was heard. A figure in a biohazard suit entered, carrying a smallish dog. Placing the creature on the table, he hurried out again, and the light changed once more, from green to red.   
  
Ashleigh stared into the deep eyes of the animal. She wasn't very good with dogs, but she thought there was a trace of greyhound in him somewhere. He was thin, and his coat was ruffled, but he was obviously well fed. Now though, his entire body shook, and he opened his mouth in a pitiful whimper. As if he didn't know what else to do, he simply huddled on the table where he had been placed.   
  
The Doctor was speaking, but Ashleigh barely heard it, staring instead at the animal with growing sense of fear. 'We have discovered that Hermes has a similar reaction on the canine genus as in that of humans. What we are testing now, is a new version of Hermes, one that acts up to fifty times faster than the original version. You see, this has been our main problem, that once released, it takes a while to work, this isn't necessarily a bad thing as, of course, it means more time for the infected individual to make contact and infect other members of society, but, well, we are impatient, and so this version was developed...'  
  
Ashleigh saw then the air vents in the room, and realised. With a moan she saw the way the animal now shook more, and began to gasp for breath, giving a long silent howl that ended in the dog coughing violently.   
  
The doctor heard her moan, and misinterpreted it. 'Oh I wouldn't worry. This room is entirely safe, there is no risk of the virus seeping through.'  
  
Bond was watching too, and she noticed a muscle ticking in his jaw, and knew that he was as disturbed as she. The wretched animal was now lying down, back legs kicking out in agony, his brown eyes rolling in their sockets, tongue lolling out helplessly.   
  
'Of course, Hermes works by attacking the respiratory system first, then finally the central nervous system, which has also been deprived of oxygen, and all muscle control is lost. The lungs can longer no perform, the victim half drowns as their lungs fill with fluid, half suffocate as at the same time the lungs collapse. Its not the most pleasant way to leave this life,' the Doctor gave a small shrug, as if this simply was a minor inconvenience, 'But it can't be helped unfortunately.'  
  
The dog was twitching madly now, eyes half closed, panting desperately, as its body was wracked with pain. Ashleigh could no longer watch, turning her head she tried to stare anywhere else in the room, but the man holding her grabbed her head roughly and jerked it back to face the dog, laughing sadistically at her horror. She could still close her eyes, so she screwed them shut as tight as she could. Now all she could hear was the voice of the doctor.  
  
'That is what makes Hermes so destructive, every time your body produces the right antibody to fight it, it simply shifts forms, and so your body has to produce new antibodies. Still Hermes continues to mutate, your immune system simply can't keep up, until finally Hermes destroys the body.  
  
'Surely then,' Bond interrupted, 'It would be impossible to create an antidote, or a vaccine for such a virus.'  
  
The Doctor seemed delighted to answer this. 'Of course, it at first seemed impossible, but we realised that like every virus there is a small percentage of the population that are naturally immune. We studied several individuals that proved to have such an immunity, and discovered a common gene within their DNA. Thanks to my research,' here he allowed himself a self satisfied smirk, 'We were able to create a vaccine that simply alters the genetic code of the receiver, and provides them with the immunity to the virus. It took a lot of time and patience, but finally we have perfected it. It will of course be available to certain individuals, for a price, I have already administered it to Deronda, and several others, with an excellent success rate.'  
  
Silence fell within the room once more. Slowly Ashleigh opened her eyes. It was painfully obvious that the dog was dead, its body contorted by its death throes, its eyes staring dully into nothing. The figure in the biohazard suit returned and removed the pitiful creature, and Ashleigh felt tears spring to her eyes at such cruelty.   
  
'Excellent.' The Doctor was evidently pleased at how the test had gone. 'But nothing can measure up to a satisfactory human test...'  
  
Both Bond's and Ashleigh's heads snapped towards the doctor. And then they saw.  
  
Inside the room, where the Hermes virus still lingered, invisible and lethal in the air, his ashen face even paler than usual, his dark eyes wide, and filled with fear, stood Vasili Dmitrov. 


	22. Chapter Twenty

Caleb Deronda barely looked up as the door to his inner domain opened.  He knew with out looking who would be the only person to enter without his permission.   Lucinda crept in, and was now waiting for him to speak.

'Have they been dealt with?'

'Actually no.  All of them have escaped, taking Hermes as well, but before he left Bond declared he was an animal right's activist, and freed all the lab animals.  They're now rampaging down the streets of St. Petersburg, and we have no Hermes anymore.'

'Good.'

Lucinda leaned over and gently but firmly lowered the document Caleb was intensely studying.  'You're not listening to me Caleb.  You know I hate that.'

Coldly he finally looked at her.  'I'm all ears.'

'That's so much better,' Lucinda smirked.  'Bond and his cohorts have been captured, and Hermes has been successfully administrated to at least one of them.  The others will shortly share the same or a similar fate.'

'Similar?' Deronda raised an eyebrow.

'The woman.  Kain.  I'm dealing with her.'

'Personally?'

'Indirectly shall we say?' Lucinda fixed him with a piercing gaze.  'Do you have a problem with that?'

'Of course not.  I'm aware that you are more than capable of handling matters like this.  After all,' he gave a snake like smile, that seemed out of place on his handsome features.  'It was you who managed to remove a certain obstacle from our plan.  And I shall ever be grateful to you for it.  Shall we have a drink to celebrate?'

Lucinda stretched languidly in her seat.  'Excellent idea.  I'll deal with that as well shall I?'

'Always have to be in control, don't you Lucinda?' he pointed out as she revealed a bottle of champagne.

'You know me.  I love a bit of power.'

There was something in her tone, her very cool, precise manner as she poured the two glasses of champagne that chilled Caleb to the bone.  Not for the first time he found himself questioning her motives… and her sanity.

The chink of glass upon the table in front of him broke through his reverie.  He reached for it automatically, but something made him stop dead, one hand still outstretched for it. 

'What?' she has such an innocent smile, that beautiful smooth face a perfect mask, hiding a poisoned soul.  For the moment she had a use for him, and he her, but for how long?  

A look of bewildered amusement swept across her face, her laugh as delicate as the champagne flute in front of him.  'You didn't think?' she laughed again, grating upon his nerves, 'Oh, Caleb!'

She slid over to him, her warm smell enveloping him completely.  Everything about her was soft and seductive, the halo of bright hair,  that sweet little rosebud mouth, the silk suit, even her immaculate nails were painted the most delicate, palest pink.  So at odds with her personality, Caleb had suffered those nails as they had tore at his back in the throes of demanding, hard, vicious passion.  Nothing was ever what it seemed.

Lucinda gazed up at her so called partner.  He was a staggeringly good looking man, with that smooth olive skin, sludgy green eyes, and tousled, soft, curling hair.  It was a shame that he would never be as powerful as he seemed to think he was.  And while Alec had the power, and was still a highly attractive man…she preferred not to think of his scars.  She blinked the image away, and gave a tiny grim smile.  A woman could never have everything she wanted… she would have to compromise somewhere…

Reaching over she dipped her finger into the glass in front of Caleb, her finger caressed by the cascading tiny bubbles.  Slowly, with a coy little smile playing upon her lips she sucked the champagne from her digit.  'See….there is nothing to worry about…'

Her lips were closing in upon his, he let her kiss him, still feeling a grudging throb of desire for her.  Still the way things were going, in less than one week, Hermes would be far away from Russia, and out of everyone's grasp but his own….

He grabbed her arms, pulling her down to him.  'Soon, soon we shall announce our victory to all those that fear us, those that wished nothing more than to see us fail…except one.  And with his absence…they shall know that they are at our mercy.'

Lucinda laughed, a deep, delicious, throaty laugh, and he pulled her into a kiss.  It was their celebration.


	23. Chapter Twenty One

A/N: Apologies for delay in chapter posting. Brief sojourn into hospital that I hadn't been expecting. Am back now though, and writing away merrily.  
  
*  
  
'No,' Ashleigh moaned in horror, her eyes widening, her mouth drying out as she met the gaze of the condemned Russian agent. 'No, no, no, no, no....'  
  
Nobody paid any attention to her, as she felt the dizzy feeling crash over her, the blackness was once more beckoning her into its depths, she shook her head to clear it, to remove the blurring at the edge of her vision, she would not pass out, she would not pass out... the mantra repeated itself in her head, as she stared at Dmitrov.  
  
He could see them, that much was clear, she only hoped that he could see how helpless they were, she knew her horror must be plastered across her face. He was now frantically looking around him, searching for a way to escape, or to figure out what the hell was exactly happening. James was stony faced, but Ashleigh knew that he was as disturbed as she was right now. Dmitrov was frightened, puzzled by the strange turn of events, no doubt wondering why he had been chosen and separated from them. She knew that if she was in his shoes she would be the same... she moaned again, quietly this time, her legs threatening to give way as the sudden thought hit her, would she and James be next? Would she be forced to watch as James succumbed to the virus, or would it be him on the other side of the glass as Hermes destroyed her body and took her life...  
  
Dmitrov was beginning to panic. He threw himself at the door, with a bone jarring crunch he hit it square on, but the door refused to move. Again, and again he tried, until bruised and sore, he had to admit defeat. He was panting, his shoulders slumped as he began to realise the futility of it all. Slowly, he approached the table, his attention, even in his panicked state, caught by something there. With grim fascination he stared at it, then swept his fingers across the surface. Both Ashleigh and James could see that his fingertips were now stained red, daubed with the blood that had trailed from the dog's nostrils as it had died. It seemed that the blood had wiped out whatever trace of hope that Dmitrov had been clinging onto. With a silent roar, and a massive heave of strength, he threw the metal table over. Despite the sound proofing Ashleigh still cringed back from the crash of it upon the concrete floor, now Dmitrov was banging his fists upon the window, imploring them to help him. They could see his lips moving, his silent pleas for help, to get him out of there, and they could do nothing. Helplessly Ashleigh struggled against her captor, ignoring the pain in her arm as the grip once more tightened on her like a vice. If she had to break her arm to get free, then so be it... James took a step forward, but the gun was once more slammed into the side of his face. He stopped, as did Ashleigh. There was nothing, absolutely nothing they could do, except watch as Dmitrov raged on.  
  
And then he stopped.  
  
His eyes widened, he began to gasp for breath, and one hand scrabbled at his throat, clawing it, leaving long red scratches down his pale skin.  
  
There was a low chuckle to Ashleigh's left, the Doctor was watching his experiment with a cold, satisfied, oddly gleeful smile on his face. 'And so it begins. The virus, as we speak, is attacking his respiratory system. With a large dose, such as the one that Mr. Dmitrov is receiving, the effects of the virus should occur quite quickly...'  
  
A roar began in Ashleigh's ears, almost like a scream, as the Doctor continued his running commentary on the effects of the virus. Dmitrov was staggering now, leaning against the wall his mouth gulping as he tried to take in enough air to fill his damaged lungs.   
  
'...as you can see Mr. Dmitrov is experiencing extreme ataxia, the lack of coordination, the staggering, his body is fighting the virus, next there should be a series of oedemas, cerebral, and pulmonary, to put it in layman's terms; his brain and lung tissues are swelling...'  
  
Ashleigh snapped.   
  
'Shut up!' she screamed, with an excruciating wrench she yanked her arm free from the heavy holding her, surprised he made to grab her, but she turned and came close to flooring him with a vicious right hook. She threw herself at the Doctor, anything to get him to stop speaking, describing the agonising collapse of Dmitrov's body that was all too evident to Ashleigh's and James's eyes. With a solid thud she landed on top of the bespectacled Doctor, surprised he was unable to fight her off, he beat feebly at her hands as she hit him, then suddenly her fingers were around his throat, cutting off his air supply.  
  
Bond had reacted just as quickly, using the opportunity to try to disarm the other heavy. They grappled, each managing to get a few punches in, but out of the corner of his eye he saw the pale eyed heavy approaching Ashleigh, who was still throttling the doctor...  
  
The Doctor's face was turning a vivid shade of red, tinged with purple, he mouthed helplessly, as helpless as Dmitrov was, as helpless as she had been when Alec's long fingers had curled round her throat... He could have killed her then, as easily as she could kill this bastard beneath her.  
  
'No,' she gasped, her fingers loosening on the Doctor's throat, he gulped in great lungfuls of oxygen. For a moment, she stayed where she was, staring into those fishlike eyes, which were filled with surprise. They flickered to above her shoulder, and she turned her head to follow them.  
  
The blow hit her hard on the shoulder, and as luck would have it, she was thrown sideways, and therefore out of the reach of the pale eyed heavy. She scrambled out of reach, and her eyes fell upon a heavy metal stool that was in the corner of the room. She moved quickly, grabbing it by the seat, the metal legs between her and the tall man. For good measure she swung it at him, grateful that he fell back out of its way. She glanced into the other room, Dmitrov was sprawled on the floor, one hand at his throat, leaning back against the metal table he had thrown over earlier. His struggles were getting weaker. She could help him, she could help him now...  
  
She ran at the window, swinging the stool back, one hard swing and the glass would hopefully shatter, and she could get Dmitrov out of there... she heaved and the stool swung backwards...  
  
'Ashleigh!'  
  
She hesitated, her head slowly turning towards James who had called her name, still holding the stool at full stretch.   
  
James was once more held at gun point, but he still managed to shake his head. 'No,' he said simply, gazing at the stool. Slowly Ashleigh began to understand, the realisation of what she had been about to do...  
  
The Doctor had clambered to his feet, and was giving that cold heartless smile once more. 'I'd listen to your superior, Miss Kain, he's right you know. Smash that window, and you shall not only infect us with the Hermes virus, but you will release it upon the entire world. So go ahead if you wish to be responsible for the end of the world as we know it, but it seems your friend is already beyond help...'  
  
The Doctor nodded towards the window, and Ashleigh saw then. Dmitrov had collapsed almost entirely now, propped up on one shoulder by the table, his skin was waxy, his eyes half closed, his breathing rasping. As she watched there was a sudden gush of blood from his nostrils, he feebly raised a hand to the flow of blood, and gazed at it surprised. His eyes slowly closed and his head toppled backwards, his hand falling to rest in his lap.   
  
'No!' Ashleigh dropped the stool, and ran forward to the window. 'Vasili!' she cried, banging on the window, 'Vasili!'  
  
Tears streamed down her face, tears of sorrow for the loss of a man she had respected and admired, and tears of frustration that she had been unable to help him. Her hands fell limply to her side, she simply stared as the heavy took her by her arms, and dragged her away. She glanced at James, realised that he was being pulled in the opposite direction from her, called out for him, but the heavy was already dragging her down the corridor, blinded by tears she could do nothing but stumble on. 


	24. Chapter Twenty Two

Still horrified by the scene she had just witnessed, Ashleigh found herself back in a white walled cell, clinical, cold, and empty. Her face was damp with tears, her entire body shook with shock, she barely struggled as her jacket was tugged off, and a hypodermic needle produced. She didn't know what they were putting into her body, barely felt the needle slide under the skin of her bare upper arm, or the slight resistance as the liquid was forced into her body. The needle was withdrawn, the arms holding her loosened, and with a sigh of relief, Ashleigh fell forwards into a deep dreamless sleep. Nothing mattered anymore; she was going to die, perhaps now, perhaps in the next twenty four hours. Sleep was a blessed relief.  
  
Like before, she woke up with her face pressed to the cold floor, and a sense of disorientation surrounding her. She lay still, letting herself wake up slowly; trying to work out what had woken her up. She heard it again, and listened. Footsteps. Coming this way. Slowly she raised herself a sitting position, and leant against the wall. Her head was as fuzzy as before, and her muscles ached. She had a smattering of purplish bruises across her knuckles where her fist had connected with the heavy's jaw in the observation room. She flexed them gingerly, still listening as the footsteps came closer. They stopped, right outside her cell, and there was a clang as the hatch was slid abruptly open. She squinted up, but someone had arranged a light above it, and she blinked, momentarily blinded. Then the footsteps moved away.   
  
Anger rose once more in her. She had been ambushed again. Knocked unconscious more than once, and now Dmitrov was dead, James was God knows where, and she was trapped her. She stood, she was shaky on her feet admittedly, but she was at least able to stand.  
  
'Bastard!' she howled after the footsteps. 'Cowardly bastard!' The insults felt good, she spat them out viciously, relishing the way they echoed down the corridor. 'Not hanging around? Scared I might kick your ass? Come on, I'm only a woman, come here and prove what a man you are!'  
  
Nothing. No response. It didn't matter what the words she shouted were, it was good just to vent some spleen. She took another deep breath, 'Your mother was a...'  
  
The door crashed open, knocking her backwards, a hand reached out caught her by the throat and she found herself pinned against the wall, her feet barely touching the floor.   
  
'It's not nice to insult people's mothers.' A voice hissed. 'I would have thought that you would have at least been taught that...'  
  
Ashleigh found herself face to face with someone she recognised. The last time she had seen those pale blue eyes, he had been standing behind Alec, obedient to the last, a dog to his master. 'You?' she laughed, 'I should have known it.'  
  
Kristov glared at her, the English bitch, his fingers ached to crush her windpipe, but he restrained himself, this was a moment to be savoured.   
  
Ashleigh, despite her precarious position, was feeling reckless. What did she have to lose? She laughed again. Kristov responded by slamming her back against the wall a bit harder.   
  
'So who's bankrolling you?' Ashleigh managed to ask as the little flashes of light that had exploded in her head died away. 'Not Alec, surely. Does he know you're working for someone else? I'm guessing its Deronda that's yanking your leash now.'  
  
'Perhaps,' Kristov's tone was icy cold, like his piercing stare. 'Or perhaps I'm working for the real power round here.'  
  
This caught Ashleigh's attention. She stared hard at him, waiting to see if he confirmed her suspicions.   
  
'And the powers that be have insisted on your removal. I asked for that pleasure specifically.'  
  
Ashleigh's wariness was beginning to grow. She might be facing death, but if she had to die, she would be putting up a struggle first. She would not make things easy for this double crossing bastard. 'Did you?' she smiled, forcing the expression onto her face. 'Ah yes, I did catch you quite hard, didn't I?'  
  
His spare hand flew to his jaw line, where a dark bruise was beginning to form. Ashleigh had been so dazed; she hadn't recognised the brute who had been restraining her. Kristov's eyes narrowed and with a grunt he threw her to one side. She hit the sidewall and slid down onto the floor, winded. God, that hurt, she thought, she had forgotten what it was like to literally have the air knocked out of you. Her solar plexus ached; her neck gave a protesting crack when she finally gathered the strength to move. She was getting to him, needling away at him, making him angry. If he was angry, she could outwit him any day of the week.  
  
Whatever they had injected her with; it was still in her bloodstream. Ashleigh began to wonder if she would ever feel fully awake again. Each movement she made seemed to be in slow motion, she moved slowly to one side, he watched her, judging her. She had to wake up.   
  
With a stinging backhand he caught her cheekbone, and she tasted blood on the inside of her mouth. He dodged her jab, but missed the uppercut that she threw up at him, aiming for his throat, but catching his shoulder. She tried not to wince as she connected with him; the man was pure muscle, at least eight inches taller than her, and probably twice as heavy. Her body was refusing to work. Her eyes drooped, despite the attempts to focus; her body was heavy, so heavy. Her shoulders slumped, and he was getting closer. She was tired, she wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight she realised, she was lucky to have managed to catch him once, she swayed on her feet, trying to ignore the evil smile that now broke his face in two, the smile that was getting closer... She was going to die...   
  
Would he be merciful? A sharp wrench to her head would snap her neck quickly, she believed it was almost painless, and over in a second, or would he break her first, lingering over his duties, drawing it out she was begging him for death? She had a nagging suspicion that it would be the latter. Well, bring it on...  
  
A lightening quick hand reached out and caught her wrist, pulling her close until he could grab her other wrist as well. He could hold both of her slender pale wrists in one of his huge hands, and with a sadistic smile of pleasure on his face he began to bend her hands back. She stared at him impassively, but as her hands were twisted in a direction they were never designed to move in, a grimace of pain came over her face, a bit further and she began to gasp at the pain, until finally she fell onto her knees, and still he held her...   
  
There was a sudden blur of movement and Kristov collapsed heavily to one side. He was still holding onto to her wrists, and Ashleigh was dragged forward, and then suddenly released. As quickly as she could, she threw herself backwards into the corner of the cell. She looked up and stared. As did Kristov.  
  
Alec was the last person she had expected to see in the compound.   
  
He was dressed all in black, suit, shirt, tie, overcoat, everything, right down to the long straight cane he carried. Which he had just brought down hard on the side of Kristov's neck. Alec ignored Ashleigh; instead he was staring scornfully at the man he had once employed.  
  
It had been in one of his brief moments of wakefulness that he had seen Kristov with Lucinda. For goodness knows how long he had been at Lucinda's mercy, lying in a soft warm bed while various doctors treated his injuries, usually at gun point and on pain of death not to mention to anyone who their patient was. Alec had patiently endured the processes, the strapping up of his ribs, several of them had broken in the attack as he had suspected, he was battered and bruised from head to toe. The drugs they had given him had made him sleep, one way of ensuring obedience he thought, Lucinda was not so confident in his loyalty just yet. Eventually, frustrated and with a growing suspicion that he was being held prisoner here, he had began to palm the tablets he was given. So easily done, and for the first time in days he had slipped into a sleep that was not drug induced. The voices had woken him, hushed and insistent. Peering through his lashes, eyes barely open, he had seen Lucinda outside the room, giving orders in that baby soft voice of hers. When Kristov had joined her, he had felt surprise, and instantly, with every cell of his body knew that it was Kristov that had betrayed him. With Alec there would be no mercy. No man ever left his service alive. For someone who had betrayed an entire nation, Alec had very firm ideas on the notion of loyalty.   
  
It was now, with more than a hint of pleasure, that he would take his revenge. He had barely seen Ashleigh cowering in the corner, all he had seen was Kristov. He stood back, drawn out to his full height, an opposing figure, radiating confidence. Alec was in control here.   
  
Kristov struggled to his feet, one hand going to the base of his neck where the cane had hit him hard. He knew enough about this man to fear him, and the power he held, but Kristov was a strong man. The power Lucinda had given him in return for information had increased his arrogance ten fold.   
  
'Who gives you your orders?' Alec asked almost mildly.   
  
Kristov licked his lips and then decided to see if he could lie his way out of it. 'You do.'  
  
Alec raised an eyebrow. 'Do I? And who do you work for?'  
  
'Janus.'  
  
Alec moved with lethal speed, and the cane he held cracked viciously across Kristov's face. Blood spurted from Kristov's nose, to Ashleigh, horrifically reminiscent of Dmitrov's last moments of life. The Russian swore, and cupped a hand across his now broken nose.   
  
'Who gives you your orders?' Alec asked for a second time. Kristov remained silent, trying to stop the flow of blood.  
  
The third time, Alec roared it, inches away from his henchman's face. 'Who gives you your orders?'  
  
'Lucinda Elliot.'  
  
Alec nodded slowly and then stepped away. He glanced in Ashleigh's direction, where she still sat upon the floor, her dark eyes seeing nothing but him. Kristov spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor.   
  
'And what made you think you could touch my property?' Alec asked, his tone quiet once more, but filled with menace. 'What made you think that I would let something as low as you touch something that belonged to me? You want what belongs to me, my power? Then take it from me.'  
  
Alec was standing deceptively still, cool, calm, composed, his face blank, devoid of all emotion. Kristov was now eyeing the man who had once been his boss with a calculated gaze, taking in the awkward stance, the cane that was used to support his weight.   
  
Alec smirked. 'Now is your chance. You've been waiting for this moment for so long, don't try to tell me you haven't. I would have. Here it is. I'm a broken man, but if you think you can, go ahead...'  
  
Kristov nodded slowly. 'Man on man.'  
  
'Man on man,' Alec agreed. 'You have my word.'  
  
Ashleigh never even saw the gun taken out. Kristov stopped dead in his tracks. 'You said man on man. You gave me your word.'  
  
'Did I?' It was a disturbing smile that graced Alec's face. Kristov eyed the gun warily, and looking into Alec's eyes, knew the end had come. 'So I did.'  
  
There was a dull thud and Kristov suddenly clutched at his stomach, blood slowly trickling between his fingers. Alec stepped over him. 'Where I come from, if a dog is disobedient, you shoot it. No man betrays me.'  
  
Kristov groaned in agony, and sank to his knees. The bullet had torn into his stomach, and Ashleigh cringed. She knew one of the slowest ways to die was a gunshot wound to the stomach or gut. She stared at Alec who had just committed cold blooded murder in front of her, and relief flooded through her. Slowly, with a huge effort she made it to her feet, her entire body ached, and she started to shake, Alec was here, she was going to be ok. With a small sob she threw herself into his arms, her mouth seeking his.  
  
Alec was surprised to suddenly find her in his arms, he rocked slightly at the force of her embrace, feeling his back protest at the harsh treatment, but then her lips were on his, and he wrapped her in his arms as she pulled him to her, one hand tugging his head closer to hers. He could feel her shaking, sense the weariness in her small body. The kiss broke, and she was gazing up at him with a dirt smudged face, her cheek reddened where Kristov had hit it, dark circles under her eyes, her lips cracked slightly from dehydration. With a gloved hand he brushed her cheek, sweeping away a streak of dirt, and he saw the trails that her tears had left on her face earlier. Gently he pressed his lips to hers again, insistent once more, but tender, aware of her injuries.   
  
When they paused for breath once more, Ashleigh saw the bruises on Alec's face, the gash through his eyebrow, deep and painful looking, the healing split in his lip, the way he winced as she tightened her arms around him. 'Who did this to you?' she asked quietly.  
  
'It doesn't matter,' he said quickly, not wishing to get into a discussion of his injuries at that moment. 'We have to get out of here.'  
  
He pulled her forward, past Kristov's body, and the pool of his blood, Ashleigh staggered, and he caught her painfully jarring his ribs as her weight fell against him.   
  
'Sorry,' she murmured, already sleepy again. He shook her hard, but she simply gazed up at him with hooded eyes. He dragged her arm around his shoulders, and supported her as well as he could. 'They injected me...'  
  
He froze. 'Injected you? With what?' He was pulling off her jacket, he grabbed her arm, searching for the small needle mark.  
  
'Don't know,' she yawned, 'Made me sleep.'  
  
There it was, the small puncture mark on her upper left arm, a small trace of dried blood. He hoped to god it was just a sedative or something, if he could just get her out of here, they could find out, make sure she was ok...  
  
She had stopped. She was refusing to move any further, tugging at his arm. 'James!' she insisted. She was trying to pull him back down the corridor they had just staggered along, not seeing his wince of pain.  
  
'What about him?' His tone was very clear.  
  
Slowly Ashleigh looked back at him. There was a look of shock on her face at his coldness as if he had slapped her. 'James is somewhere in here. We have to go and find him.'  
  
He said nothing.  
  
'No!' she grabbed him again, she had to stop herself from shaking him so agitated she was. 'You can't just come here and rescue me. You can't leave him here! They'll kill him! They'll kill him like they did Dmitrov!'  
  
So the Russian agent was dead. It didn't matter. Alec spoke slowly, as if he were explaining things to a child. 'We had a truce, Ashleigh. And you broke it. I just can't simply forget that...'  
  
She understood what he was saying, he knew that. 'Fine,' she said shortly. 'Fine. The truce stands. Help me now, and I'm yours to command. I'll do anything, but please, just help me to find James.'  
  
'All the conditions?'  
  
She didn't back down, but he saw her swallow. She was well aware of what all the conditions were, her lips still burned from the kisses they had shared moments earlier. 'All of them.' She agreed.  
  
He nodded at her, a satisfied smile on his lips. They went to find James. 


	25. Chapter Twenty Three

'You see, I spy for a living, and I specialise in revenge.  In taking the things I know will cause you pain,'  'I Spy', Pulp.

*

As they staggered through the compound, Alec revelled in the sensation of being close to her again, the softness of her body as she pressed against him, the scent of her hair that brushed his face as they moved.  She was waking up, and not relying on him so much to support her, and he was surprised at how much he missed her warmth when she finally moved completely away from him.  

'Where is he?' she murmured, peering through a door.  There was no point in keeping quiet, there were guards all over the place, making more than enough noise, a bit more wouldn't hurt.  'James?  James?' she cried, then listened.  For a moment there was nothing but silence, and Alec started to say, 'He's not…'

'Shush.'  She waved a hand at him, insisting on silence.  She heard it again, a muffled shout.  'This way,' she dashed off down a corridor, Alec following as well as he could.  His body ached, he wished that this was over and done with and he could rest.  As if taunting him with her youth she ran easily, pausing to wait for him to catch up with her.  She wasn't even breathing heavily, instead she was bright eyed, her cheeks flushed, enjoying the thrill of the mission, in the same way that he had in years gone by.  He knew the adrenaline was pumping through her; she was on the edge, ready for anything.  And again he felt a flicker of envy that she was living the life he once had.

She was reaching for his hand, holding it gently her thumb brushing across the back of his hand.  'I know you're doing this for your own reasons.  But thank you.'  

She was sweet, he decided, her naiveté was strangely appealing, she still was fighting for the world, still believed in what was good.  Just as David had… 

She had gone again, running ahead, she was peering through the door.  'Give me your gun,' she was insisting, her hand already outstretched for it.  He had no choice but to hand it to her.

'James?  Stand back from the door.' She called to him, and then quickly fired off three shots into the lock.  The shots echoed down the corridors, the lock to the door was a mangled mess, and with a sharp kick it broke through.  In a second James was out, definitely more rumpled than Alec was ever used to seeing him, wild eyed and ready to move.

He stopped dead as he saw Alec.  His blue eyes met Alec's grey eyes, and the hatred was clear to see.  Without a word, James launched himself at Alec, who found himself pinned to the wall, and James looked ready to kill.  

'What the hell is he doing here?' James roared at Ashleigh, still holding Alec in a vice like grip.  Alec to his credit decided not to struggle and simply gazed back at James with a wary look in his eyes.  

'He's here to help, James,' Ashleigh tried to persuade him.  'He can get us out of here.'

'Why?' It wasn't clear if the question was directed at Alec or Ashleigh.  'When has he ever done anything that wasn't for his own gain?'  James tightened his grip on Alec, who grimaced slightly in pain.  

Enough was enough, Ashleigh decided.  She grabbed James, trying to haul him off, surprised by how much strength her godfather had, she could do little more than tug at his shoulders.  'James, listen to me, James!'  With a colossal heave she managed to lever one of his arms away from Alec, and finally Bond noticed her.  She still held his arm, she had never seen him so cold before, she had to get him away.  'James, we have to get out of here.  Alec has gotten us this far, we have to trust him,'

'You think I could ever trust him?' James snarled.  

'He just saved my life!' she shouted.  'And any minute we're going to be overrun with guards, we have to get out of here.  They've killed Dmitrov, do you think they'll hesitate to kill us any way they can?'

The exertion suddenly caught up with her, and she staggered backwards against the wall, exhausted, the blood running from her face, she slumped, and sat heavily on the floor.  Her eyes closed briefly and she struggled to fight the urge to sleep.

James saw her fall, and dropped Alec in a second, 'What the hell have you done to her now?' he roared at the other man, as he crouched beside her, lifting her head, gently slapping her cheeks with the back of his hand to wake her up.  She was struggling to focus on him; she was trying to speak, but Alec, equally anxious about her, spoke first.

'They've injected her with something.  I think they did it to make it easier to attack her.'

'To attack her?'  James was still trying to coax her round. 

'When I reached her cell, a man called Kristov was already there.  He was previously in my employment, and I had a suspicion that he would attack Ashleigh under the orders of Lucinda Elliot.  He was following her orders.  I was just in time; Ashleigh would have been dead in a matter of minutes if I hadn't been there.  Kristov died instead.'  Alec was calm in his explanation, calmer than he felt himself…  

'I only have your word for that, and I learnt a long time ago that Alec Trevelyan's word means nothing.  Who's to say you didn't do this to her?'

'Look at her, James!' Alec shouted, suddenly losing his temper.  'Look at her.  Do you really think I could do that?  To her?' He was breathing heavily, close to losing control, desperate to make James understand that he couldn't hurt Ashleigh, he didn't know why, but he couldn't hurt her, wouldn't hurt her. 

James saw the bruise starting on her cheek bone, the blood matting in her hair where she had been slammed back against the wall, but he saw beyond the new injuries, saw the shadows where she had been bruised in the accident, the fading shadows on her throat where Alec's hands had choked her.  

'And these?' he tilted her head back so Alec could see them.  'She told me it was you.  That you tried to strangle her.  And you ask me if I believe you could do that to her.  I've seen the evidence of what you could do to her.  I would put nothing past you.'

'Believe what you want, James, but believe this, your goddaughter has been injected with a substance that could be anything from a muscle relaxant to something lethal.  And she was deliberately attacked.  We are running out of time, we have to get her and ourselves out of here.'  He was reaching down for Ashleigh, to help her to her feet, to support her, get her out of here.  'Before someone comes to finish the job they started…'

There was no way James was letting Alec anywhere near his goddaughter.  Nor did he need reminding of who she was from Alec.  On his feet in a second, and pushing Alec away violently, he stepped between him and Ashleigh.  'She doesn't need your help.'

Alec raised his hands in a mocking gesture of surrender.  'Fine.'  James continued to stare at him, as he lifted Ashleigh to her feet, and wrapped her arm around his neck.   

It was Ashleigh who broke the silence.  'Alec, please, just get us out of here,' she whispered, licking her dry lips, clinging onto James with all her remaining strength.  

Frustrated, Alec could do nothing but stride down the corridor, leaving James to follow.  For some reason he felt helpless, and unable to reach out to her, he refused to turn to meet Ash's eyes, eyes that he could feel boring into his back with every step he took.  

At the junction of two corridors, he paused.  Looking both to the left and the right he seemed hesitant, and James couldn't resist sneering, 'Lost, are we?'

Alec ignored him, instead he listened.  There was no doubt about it, and decision made, he had to get away.  Turning on his heel, he ran at James and Ashleigh, 'Move, now!' he gestured down the corridor.  'Back the way we came, move, damn you!'

James paused, reluctant to follow orders from a traitor, but seeing Alec running towards him at some speed, and hearing heavy footsteps coming from the left he decided that now wouldn't be the time to quibble over loyalties, and he finally turned, dragging Ashleigh along with him.

It was too late.  A small army of what appeared to be soldiers were already running towards them, turning they saw another group enter the other end of the corridor.  For the second time, James had been hemmed in a hallway like this one in and as before he could see there was no escape.

The soldiers were dressed in black, from their helmets, to their heavy black lace up boots.  Most of them were using some form of breathing apparatus, apparently taking no chances with a potential lethal virus being held in the building.  All were heavily armed. 

'Identify yourself.' One of the men stepped forward, an officer, clearly in charge, and aiming a military issue submachine gun at the trio.  'Hands above your heads, and identify yourself.'

Letting go of Ashleigh, who, with the help of a nearby wall, managed just to stay on her feet, James raised his hands above his head, trying to see any distinguishing markings on the soldier's uniform.  There were none. However the man did speak with a crisp English accent.  Somehow Bond doubted these were Deronda's men. 

'007. MI6, British Secret Service.  This is Agent Kain, also of MI6.'  

'And you?' the officer gestured with the weapon at Alec.

'Janus,' he snapped. 'Alec Trevelyan.  I presume you are aware of my status?'

'We are indeed.' The officer gave a grim smile.  'My men and I are operating under the orders from British Intelligence; we were instructed to escort you, Agent Kain, and 007 out of this compound.'

'Where to?' Bond asked, warily.  Like Ashleigh, he had been staring at Alec, and wondering what exactly Alec had meant by status.

'To a location where you will receive your next orders.'

The answer was deliberately brief, and all three knew better than to ask for more information.  Silently they were led through the corridors, it seemed Alec had been leading them the right way after all, it took only minutes before they found themselves once more in the over grown garden of the facility.  

Suddenly overcome with sadness, Ashleigh looked across the garden to where Dmitrov and herself had been captured.  Dawn was just beginning to paint pale fingers across the eastern sky, and she realised that only a matter of twelve hours had passed since her capture.  She shivered, and pressed against James once more.  

'Dmitrov,' she suddenly whispered.  'What will happen to Dmitrov?'  She couldn't force herself to say 'his body'.

The officer overheard her.  'We're sending in a unit to retrieve him,' he said, almost gently.  As if to confirm this Ashleigh saw a group of men in biohazard suits entering the building carrying a strange, coffin like container.  She shuddered as she realised that coffin was the right word to describe it.

The fifteen or so men around them had dispersed, heading into the garden on unknown orders, only the officer and two men remained. They were standing at the now open, and imposing gate to the compound.  'We're to leave you here,' the officer said brusquely, 'You are to be transported to a secure location; a car is waiting for you one hundred metres down the drive.'  A set of headlights suddenly came on, revealing the cars location, it was indeed waiting for them.  'That includes you, Janus.'

Alec nodded, he had been expecting this.  

The officer nodded in return, turned and ran back to his men, shouting orders as he went.  

For several minutes, there were no words to be said.  Still exhausted, and realising with a huge amount of relief that they were free, Ashleigh sank onto a low wall that ran along the drive and buried her head in her hands.  Alec watched her, wondering what strange fate had brought him here that he had willingly assisted that which he had thought he hated.  She looked up at him, her dark eyes guarded, as if she too was thinking the same thing.  For a moment he softened, and he was about to take a step forward, to hold her, to comfort her, but he remembered the way she had rejected him, the way she had walked out on him.  He was torn, torn between desire and hatred, he couldn't think straight. 

'Get away from her.'  

The voice was low, dangerous, menacing, and Alec turned to James.  'So.  You've finally learnt to show emotion for a woman.  I'm surprised.'

'Stop it!'  Ashleigh was only too aware of how volatile the situation could be and wanted to stop it before it even started.  'Let's just go, please.  Get the hell away from this place.'  

'Not yet.'  

Alec was walking towards her.  'Our deal, Ashleigh.  We need to work out a few of the conditions.'

She stared at him, feeling her breath catch in her throat.  Why was he bringing this up now… she couldn't find the words to protest, he was leaning over her, one gloved hand gently stroking her face, bringing forth all those feelings she had denied since she had last seen him. She couldn't help but look at him, her breath coming in small frozen clouds in the predawn chill.  'Alec, please don't,' she finally whispered.  

'I helped you Ashleigh, that was part of our deal,' he reminded her, 'and soon, it will be time for you to fulfil your side of it.'

His voice was hypnotic, drawing her in with sincerity, the cool rationalisation of their situation.  She hesitated, feeling his hand against her cheek, and in that moment James interrupted.

'A deal?' his voice cut through the dawn like a blade.  

'Not a deal, a truce,' Ashleigh whispered.  

'With certain conditions,' Alec reiterated.  'I help you, you help me.'

'You made a truce with this monster?' James repeated, his voice rose to a roar in disbelief.

Ashleigh glanced at her godfather nervously.  To her surprise, it was Alec who jumped to her defence.

'If she hadn't, you'd still be rotting in your cell waiting your turn at playing lab rat,' he hissed, 'You think you could have gotten out without my assistance?'

'As I remember, we're out due to the timely intervention of the British Secret Service.'

Alec gave an almost strangled laugh, but didn't reply.    

'Ashleigh.  Get in the car now.'  James didn't even look at her as he ordered her away.  She glanced at him, a protest already on her lips.  'That was an order from a superior, Agent Kain.  I am in control of this mission, you will obey me!'

His tone left no room for argument, with a final glance at Alec; she stalked off to the car.  James and Alec remained locked in a battle of wills and words.

'So tell me, what are the conditions of this so called truce between Ashleigh and you?  How exactly have you manipulated her?'  Once more he was coldly calm, his voice like ice, his anger of a few minutes ago replaced with a chill that was more familiar but equally intimidating.

'It is a matter for discussion between Ashleigh and I.  But she required my assistance, and I gladly gave it as I had agreed I would do.  I wish nothing more than to aid this mission in any way I can.'

'Why?' Bond was suspicious, and Alec's confident tone was grating him.  

'A personal vendetta that has gone too far.  I want to see Deronda destroyed.  However it's not as simple as that. I don't think you quite realise what you are dealing with here, this is far bigger than just Caleb Deronda.  Which is why I wanted to offer you these.'

He had pulled from his overcoat two envelopes, and was holding them out to James.  'Deronda is holding a 'conference' upon his aircraft carrier tomorrow.  He plans to sell the opportunity to receive the genetic immunity against Hermes to anyone who is willing to pay the price.  Of course, personal invites are extremely difficult to come by, which is why I'm offering you these.  Two passes to get on board.  Flying out from Macona airbase tomorrow morning.  It's the perfect opportunity to remove the threat of Hermes, if you're willing to take the risk.'

Bond laughed. It wasn't a pleasant sound.  'And you expect me to accept these?  I take them and find myself in the middle of an elaborate trap set up by you.'

'I can assure you that this is no trap set by me.  This is far bigger than you or me James, I realised that recently.  Now you have to.  I'm authorised to give these to you.'

'Authorised?  And what authority would that be, Janus?'  He spat the words out, still hating to call Alec by his name.

'The very highest, James.'  Alec savoured the words, delighting in the stunned expression on Bond's face.  'Official permission from M herself, to offer assistance to her agents.  And that includes these.' 

He still held the envelopes out to Bond, who was still refusing to take them.  Alec sighed.

'I'm doing this for her, James, no one else.'

Bond hesitated.  He took the envelopes.

*

At James's order Ashleigh had stalked off, furious at her obvious dismissal. She shot a lethal glare back at the two men, unnerved by the way they were staring at each other, with obvious hatred. Yanking open the car door, she threw herself into it.

'Patronising bastard!' she swore, lashing out with a vicious kick to the seat in front of her, her temper fraying.

'Kain.' A composed familiar voice said in greeting.

Ashleigh turned and saw that she was sitting next to the last person she ever expected to see in St. Petersburg.

'Sir,' she managed to stutter out in reply.  M nodded at her, and then carried on staring ahead.  

Minutes later the door opened and Bond slid in, stony faced, soon afterwards Alec climbed into the front without a word.  The driver started the engine, and they left the research facility at last.  Ashleigh didn't look back. 


	26. Chapter Twenty Four

A/N: Reposted due to glaring omission of plot device.  Beginning to think I have far too much to remember for this story.  Also, why do I always remember at 3am in the morning?

*

'It is ridiculous that we are expected to cooperate with a known traitor!'  
  


The fist that crashed down onto the desk caused the thick wood to shudder. M stared at it for a moment and then raised an eyebrow at Bond. 'Ridiculous perhaps, but necessary.'  
  


'Necessary? As far as I am concerned, it is a risk to national security that we cooperate with Janus.' Bond's anger was plain to see, enough to make him forget that he was at least supposed to show respect to his superior. Thankfully M was prepared to overlook it this one time. She supposed it was rather a shock for him.   
  


'Then we should all be grateful that it is not your concern. 007 may I remind you that we are fighting one of the biggest threats this world has seen. If you are willing to put 98% of the population's lives at risk because you have a personal grudge against Alec Trevelyan, then there are other 00 agents that I can assign to the case.'  
  


'This isn't a personal grudge, sir,' Bond bristled at the suggestion, too stubborn to admit what was blatantly true. 'I'm merely concerned that Janus's previous megalomania may interfere with a successful outcome of this mission.'  
  


M sighed. 'We are all concerned about that aspect of Alec Trevelyan's personality, we would be fools not to be. However, Trevelyan has provided us with several leads that could well provide us with a successful outcome to this mission. Which I am sure that we all ultimately desire.'  
  


'And his price for this information?'  
  


'Continued immunity. Nothing more.' M's eyes narrowed, Bond was moving onto territory that she was not willing to discuss.  
  


'Why was I never informed of Janus's survival?' Bond's anger burst forth.   
  


'Because it was my decision not to tell you. I do not need to explain my actions to you 007.'  
  


'But if he survived, there was a risk that he would seek domination once more.'  
  


'Trevelyan was essentially immobile for over a year. The injuries he received after Goldeneye left him unable to walk, unable to move for at least six months. The man is practically held together by metal pins. He was hardly in a position to seek revenge even if he wished to. When I met Alec a year ago, he was willing to discuss the possibility of immunity in return for information, much as he is doing now. It's been a very successful relationship, and I have no intention of ending it due to your personal feelings towards him 007. He's shown no desire for world domination, and has kept his nose clean, until his involvement in this mission.'  
  


'These passes onto Deronda's warship that you instructed he gives me. How can you be sure that this isn't a trap? That this isn't an elaborate revenge plot designed to terminate me?' It was the closest M had ever seen Bond to raving.   
  


'The probability of that is unlikely.' M picked up a file, intending to signal the end of the conversation.   
  


'And what about Ashleigh?' Bond said softly.  
  


M paused, and then removed her glasses, placing them on top of the file. 'Are you suggesting that Trevelyan is in some way targeting Agent Kain?'  
  


'He's manipulated her into some kind of truce. She has been involved in a car crash that I believe was of his orchestrating, he throttled her, his men have attacked her, and yet she now believes she is somehow indebted to him. He's possessed her, manipulated her, and forced her into his bed with this damned truce!'   
  


'Forced her? Are you implying that Trevelyan forced himself on Kain?' M was eagle eyed, and she saw the flush rise in Bond's cheeks.   
  


'No sir. I believe though that he has manipulated her into a sexual relationship.'  
  


'James,' M used the first name uncomfortably, hoping it might help him to see the madness of his words.  'I've know Ashleigh as long as you have, since her birth. Do you really think she could be forced into doing something she was reluctant to do?'  
  


Bond remained silent.   
  


'I didn't think you did. However I will agree with you that it is dangerous that Ashleigh believes she owes Alec something. God knows what he could persuade her to do in his name.'  
  


'Sir...'  
  


'This discussion is over 007. You are dismissed.' M slipped her glasses on once more and picked up the file.   
  


Bond walked to the door, still frustrated, still angry, and still lacking in answers. As he reached the door to M's makeshift office he heard her call him softly. He turned.  
  


'I will deal with him, 007. I have orders for him, and I shall make sure he follows them.'  
  


Bond nodded and left the room.  
  


*  
  


They had been taken to what appeared to be a temporary HQ for MI6 in St. Petersburg, an underground bunker inland away from the city. By some minor miracle Ashleigh had managed to stay awake for most of the journey, and upon their arrival had been immediately taken to a cordoned off area of the bunker. A doctor had been with her for a good half hour, taking blood, questioning her, and she was now awaiting the results. From where she lay on a make shift bed, she could just see into the operational area, and her eye was immediately drawn to the tall blond man that hovered on the edge of everything. She watched him as he moved, checking maps, occasionally throwing a question at someone, she was fascinated by him. Alec was limping more than usual, and he relied on the cane for any amount of distance, but apart from that, she couldn't see how his injuries had affected him. His entire demeanour was confident, as if he belonged here as much as anyone else. She wanted to talk to him, to be able to just ask if he was alright, to hold him, to take away any pain he was feeling. She sat up. For weeks now Alec Trevelyan had been in the forefront of her mind, haunting her as she slept at night, her mind played cruel tricks on her, sending her dreams where she was with him, touching him, his lips upon hers, his warm embrace wrapped around her. In the daylight she had been plagued by thoughts of him, of sudden memories of their time together, and she would blush as they hit her, shocking her with their clarity. But most of all she had been surprised how her body had craved him, that she had missed him, and her loneliness had swamped her. So many times she had caught her hand creeping towards the phone he had given her, wondering if she called, would he answer? Would he want her? Sheer stubbornness had won that battle, and the phone had remained untouched. The medical examiner had given her a bottle of water, and she sipped it now, willing herself to look anywhere but at him. She hadn't meant to kiss him in the facility but her sheer relief at seeing him had driven her into his arms. She glanced around the room.  
  


To her surprise, he was watching her. Half leant over one of the desks; he had looked up and saw her. Their eyes met, and she froze. His stormy grey eyes were fixed on her, and they were unreadable. But she couldn't tear her gaze away from him.   
  


'Agent Kain?'  
  


She heard the voice from some distance away, but it was only when he repeated her name a second time, did she manage to tear her eyes away from Alec. The medical examiner had returned.  
  


'All clear.' He announced. She nodded, listening. A mild sedative, only traces left of it in her system, enough had been injected to leave her woozy and vulnerable. 

'I've informed M, you're fit to carry on in active service.'   
  


Ashleigh nodded mutely.   
  


'You're free to go,' the M.E hinted.  
  


'Oh. Thank you,' she managed to find the words before she left.  It was time to pull herself together, she had orders to fulfil.  
  


*  
  


Alec had been subjected to a similar fate upon his arrival. The M.E that had examined him had been horrified to discover the strapping on his broken ribs.  
  


'What kind of moronic, inept doctor would resort to this...' he muttered as he untangled Alec from it.  
  


'I somehow doubt he was a legal practitioner,' Alec winced as his ribs were freed, but instantly he was able to catch his breath better. 'Have you heard anything about Agent Kain?'  
  


The M.E shrugged. 'Running blood tests. Shouldn't be too serious though, she would have been reacting badly if they really wanted to harm her. My guess at her symptoms would be a sedative.' He glanced at Alec, 'Any reason you wanted to know?'  
  


'Just concerned.' Alec said. Thankfully it appeared that that would be the extent of his physical, and he carefully dressed again. He knew that M would seek him out eventually, it was a case of overseeing the planning of the next few days events.   
  


His decision to contact M hadn't been an easy one. But in the end there had been no other choice. One way or another Hermes had to be destroyed before the opportunity arose to use it. And the more that Alec learnt about the virus, the more he was convinced that its release was imminent. His time at Lucinda's base had been eye opening. So convinced of his loyalty, she had left him to his own devices, her arrogance had been staggering. Alec had scorned her for this, well aware of the face that his own over confidence had brought about his downfall last time. Lucinda however took arrogance to a new level. Left alone and unguarded, freed from the influence of the drugs administrated to him, he had chosen the earliest opportunity to remove himself from her grasp. It would have been easy to just flee, but his instincts had told him that Lucinda's office warranted a thorough investigation. With nothing but clean minimalist lines it seemed impossible to hide anything, but as his fingers had explored the inside of a drawer, they had brushed upon a tiny discreet switch. With a gentle sigh a small compartment had revealed itself, and inside a single disc. It would be a huge risk to take it, but as he had stared at the tiny metallic circle, he knew that this was it. Without a backwards glance he had taken it, and escaped. Was Lucinda none the wiser? He had no idea, but he had fought with himself, caught in the decision that had faced him. His conscience had won. He had contacted M. As he had told James, this was bigger than everything. Only M and himself had seen the contents of the disc so far. This would be a 'need to know' mission, and Alec knew the minimal amount of detail would be revealed. Time was running out, and so Alec was here, about to brief 007 about his mission. A grim smile touched Alec's lips; he could well appreciate the irony of the situation. As for Bond, Alec had saved his life in freeing him from the research facility. One day, it would be a pleasure to call in that debt.   
  


He glanced up from the screen he was staring at, unable to focus anymore on the tiny pinpoints of light that made up the satellite image in front of him, and saw her. He was struck once more by her resemblance to her father, the same shaped nose, the same eyes, and the same thick dark hair. He knew that he was getting far too deeply involved with her, but he couldn't help himself. He had to get her alone, to warn her, to tell her the danger she was in, that Kristov was just the tip of the iceberg, he wondered if this was his opportunity.  
  


Too late, the blasted M.E had returned. Alec returned back to staring at the map, but saw nothing. Time was indeed running out, for him, for Ashleigh, for the world.   
  


*  
  


They gathered around him. He refused to greet them, simply launching into his explanation of the plans.   
  


'Deronda's warship is based in the White Sea to the North East of St. Petersburg. You will fly to the Macona airbase, where you will be transported to the ship. Deronda has chosen his location carefully, at the mouth where the Arctic Ocean flows into the sea, close to Arkhangelsk.' If the name of the city brought back uncomfortable memories for Alec or his present company, it didn't show. He tapped on the map at the point he was referring to, 'If Deronda or Elliot choose to escape, they have a vast amount of ocean to hide in from this point, it would be extremely difficult to attempt to trap them here, which is why I've recommended the Navy keep their distance. Hem them in, and there is no knowing what they might be insane enough to do.'  
  


M interrupted, 'The Navy are situated close to Murmansk, ready to offer assistance should the need arise. If the mission is successful they will be dispatched to collect you.'  
  


'Only if the mission is a success, of course,' Alec sneered. He knew Bond was close by, could feel his glare burning into his shoulder blades.   
  


'I see no reason why it shouldn't be,' M intervened before Bond could react.   
  


Alec shrugged, and brought up another screen, this time a blueprint for Deronda's warship. 'The ship is fully operational with a skeleton crew. Once on board the 'conference' will take place here, at the helm of the ship. This is Deronda's brainchild, he is desperate to prove to all that his power is absolute. We need to locate the operation centre, the files that will give us access to Hermes, and disable them. Once disabled, Hermes is ours for the taking,' The words said so simply, yet summed up every single desire for power he had, whoever held Hermes, held the world, and it could be his to take...he realised that they were waiting for him to speak once more, and he forced himself back on track. 'We've identified possible locations here, here and here,' he pointed out three areas on the plan. The image duplicated on every large screen in the area was easily visible to all, yet he sensed someone step behind him.   
  


He tensed, immediately on guard at their close proximity, and then he smelt her perfume, faint, but still instantly recognisable to him, the cool scent warmed by her skin, and he couldn't help but breath it in. It was her smell, but this time mixed with others, coppery and salty, he realised how close she was, he could smell the dried blood in her hair, and the faint smell of dried sweat, caused by her earlier fear and activity. Ashleigh. Immediately the tension left him, and he felt her small hand rest upon his shoulder as she leant in to see the plans that he was gazing at.   
  


'Is the ship armed?' she asked, pointing at the torpedo shafts that were detailed on the blueprint.   
  


'We've yet to ascertain that.' She showed no signs of wanting to move away from him, 'We can only presume that it is and act accordingly.'  
  


He felt her nod, and she continued to stare at the map, as if committing it to memory. David Kain had had a photographic memory, he wondered if Ashleigh had inherited it from him. Slowly he tilted his head, bringing his mouth close to her ear. 'Lucinda,' he whispered, his lips barely moving. She had heard him, he felt her tense, 'Be aware of her,' he didn't know why he was warning her now, but he knew she had to know. She gave a barely noticeable nod of her head.

He had to take a risk, but their bodies were so close together, he felt they were shielded enough to get away with it.  He slid his hand over to hers, she jumped a little at the brush of his skin against hers, but he pressed the disc into her hand, she glanced at it, then palmed it, and was gone. 

He could hardly remember what he said next in the briefing, his words automatically forming themselves into sentences. All the time he was aware of Ashleigh's presence behind him, the memory of her touch upon his shoulder, and the brush of her skin against his.   
  


*  
  


The briefing had gone well, M decided. She had been surprised when Alec had willingly accepted her offer to talk through the plans, but as only he and herself had seen them, it was a logical decision. Her conversation with Bond had disturbed her, but she had made the decision to trust Alec, and giving the increasingly limited amount of choices left open to her, she would follow this one through to the end. If Alec had his own reasons for choosing to cooperate with MI6, then so be it. The information he had given her, had been quite frankly far more in-depth than she could have hoped for, but the implications were terrifying. M had seen these enemies come and go, but here was one who for the first time, M could see carrying out their threat. And so allies were made in the strangest of places. 007 would just have to work with them, personal issues or no issues.  
  


Personal issues. This mission had been plagued by them from the moment she had decided to pair 007 up with Kain. She had hoped that they could have worked together successfully, the connection between them forming into a successful working relationship that brought results. For once the usually cautious M had made a gamble, and she would like to think it would have worked, had not a rogue element worked its way into the equation. She could see, from a female point of view, why Ashleigh would become infatuated with Alec, he was still a handsome man, with more than enough magnetism to turn a young woman's head. But there was more than that. Any fool could have seen that today, even Bond, though she had seen him look away as Ashleigh had touched Alec. Bond had accused Alec of manipulation, because it was easier for him to explain their relationship in that way. M shook her head. Ashleigh was a willing partner in this situation, and Alec trusted her. There was no way she could have approached him in that manner if he didn't. And if Alec was doing this for her, then MI6 would reap the benefits.   
  


She had seen the little exchange between the lovers. And she was furious. She had specifically ordered Alec not to attempt to warn Ashleigh in any way. To give her that knowledge was to place her in considerably more danger, and M had no doubt that Ashleigh would seek out Lucinda. She gritted her teeth, and hoped that the agents would return from this mission.   
  


If they didn't... M refused to think about it. There was no way this mission could fail.   
  


*  
  


After the briefing Ashleigh had been shown to a small room, and told to rest. Fully dressed she threw herself onto the small canvas camp bed, without even bothering to pull the heavy blanket over herself. She fell asleep.  
  


She woke moments before the knock on the door. They had come for her. Her eyes flew open, she was instantly awake, and ready.   
  


It was the beginning of the end.


	27. Chapter Twenty Five

The scream that tore through the building froze the blood of everybody who heard it. Those with nothing to do suddenly found tasks to get them away from the source of that horrific scream.  
  
Lucinda Elliot tore through her base, trying to ignore the panic that coursed through her. She skidded into her office, heels clattering on the marble floor, her hands already outstretched for her desk. Her deft fingers found the switch, the compartment opened...  
  
Nothing.  
  
It was gone. Gone. And Trevelyan had taken it.   
  
She would not stand for this. She would not let him get away with this.   
  
And when he arrived at the ship, she would hunt him down and she would kill him. And she would enjoy it. Her fist slammed down upon the table, she ignored the pain that shot through her hand.  
  
She tossed her blonde hair back defiantly. The sooner she was the only person in charge, the better. No one crossed Lucinda Elliot and got away with it.   
  
*  
  
The jeep came to a halt at the edge of the airfield, and Ashleigh jumped out of the back, already seeing the helicopter, blades rotating, her adrenaline levels about to go through the roof, this was it, never had she been so prepared for a mission.   
  
James was right behind her, and he could see her excitement. He wanted to tell her that she needed to calm down, to focus, but he was feeling the same thrill, he knew he would snap into a more professional mood on the journey, he hoped that she would too.   
  
The third person to exit the jeep was more cautious, both in getting his feet back on the ground, and in his attitude. Alec was here, he knew what he was doing, he was following orders, in the same way as Ashleigh and James were. There were just a few more things to do.   
  
'The passes will get you on board, there should be enough people arriving at the same time to conceal identities long enough to get to a secure position.'  
  
James nodded curtly. Alec supposed it was about as civil as he would get.   
  
'They're signaling us over,' Ashleigh couldn't resist a quick grin. 'Time to go.'  
  
'Ashleigh.'  
  
She turned at the sound of her name, her smile still on her lips. Alec was staring at her with the same intensity he had moments before he had kissed her that first time. But there was something in the way he stood, as if the weight of the world was upon his shoulders that made the smile fade away.   
  
'We had a deal, Ash,' he used her shortened name with a fond familiarity. 'You have to do what I can no longer do.'  
  
She wasn't exactly sure what he was talking about, but she had a feeling that she didn't like the way this was going. 'I don't understand,' she frowned.  
  
He was so close to her, ignoring James, tilting her chin up so she was looking right up at him. 'Alec?' she asked, 'What is it?'  
  
He was fumbling in his pocket, 'My side of the bargain is done. I've done everything in my power to help you, even going to M, for your sake. I expect you to uphold your side of the truce.' He was pressing something into her hand. She saw the silver pistol, taken from her at the compound, he must have sought it out for her, and her question was written across her face. 'Kill them for me. Kill them both. Especially Lucinda. She's after your blood, kill her before she can kill you.'  
  
It was as much warning as he could give her. With the exception of disobeying her to warn Ashleigh, he had done everything M had asked him to do. He had given her every scrap of information that he could, he had given James and Ashleigh access to Deronda's ship, even rescued them from the research facility on M's orders. Now there was just one more final order to complete, and as he stepped back from her, Ashleigh suddenly realised what it was.  
  
'But...' she started, still staring at him. 'You're not coming with us, are you?'  
  
His silence was all the answer she needed. She shook her head, half in anger, half in disappointment. She felt the feelings crash over her, in the last 36 hours she had been knocked unconscious, watched her colleague die a horrific death in front of her, been drugged, and faced her own death either as a victim of Hermes or at the hands of cold blooded killer. Something inside her threatened to snap, and she fumbled with the gun dragging the safety off, pointing it straight at Alec.   
  
'You're not abandoning us now. You're coming with us.'  
  
Alec laughed bitterly. 'You'd be better off aiming that at Deronda or Elliot.'  
  
'You can't leave us now. Not after everything...'  
  
Her voice trailed off as he walked towards her. She tightened her grip on the gun. 'Alec,' she warned, her hands starting to shake.   
  
'You wouldn't kill me, Ashleigh. No matter what you once told me.' He was getting so close to her now.   
  
It was all too easy. He simply pushed her hands away, and took the gun from her. Reversing it, he offered it back to her, she snatched it, her face flushed as he saw the weakness in her. 'Why did you bother helping me, if you're walking away now?'  
  
Once more he was silent, and Ashleigh seemed to give up, her shoulders slumping. She turned to James. 'Let's go.'  
  
James had been watching the exchange, he saw the pain on Ashleigh's face. 'You're not needed here anymore, Janus, so just go.'  
  
He placed an arm around Ashleigh's shoulders and made to walk her to the helicopter. He could feel her shaking beneath his touch.   
  
'Ashleigh?'  
  
She turned to him once more, hurting as she was, still drawn irresistibly to him. 'What?'  
  
Despite the coldness of her tone, he had to offer her this chance. Wordlessly, he held his hand out to her.   
  
She realised what he was offering her. She could go with him now. Give up the mission, and walk away with him, he was offering her that. She could uphold her side of the truce by giving herself to him. How easy it would be, she hadn't even realised she had even walked towards him.   
  
'No,' she whispered. 'No. I'm not giving up that easily, I have a job to do, and I am not walking away from this mission.'  
  
But for the second time she had walked away from him, for the second time she had rejected him, and now she was turning her back on him, walking back towards James.   
  
A cold voice rang out into the early morning.   
  
'Go and save the world, Agent Kain, its all you're good for.' A manic light flickered in Alec's eyes. 'And you'll die doing it. Maybe not this mission, or the next, but die you will. Just like David did, poor weak David, fighting for all that he believed was good in the world, and it killed him in the end. How proud he would be of his daughter following in his footsteps...'  
  
Her reactions were quick, next thing he knew she had hit him hard across the face.   
  
'Don't you dare talk about my father!' she howled, surprising herself as much as she had surprised him. She may not be able to fire a gun at him, but all her anger came out as her fists hit against his chest. He reeled from her sudden attack, trying to fend off her blows without actually hitting her back.   
  
After what seemed like an eternity James stepped forward and took her arms, gently tugging her back, glaring at Alec with hatred evident in his eyes.   
  
'Don't you ever speak his name again,' Ashleigh hissed, 'My father was a hero who died for his country, and you were a traitor who betrayed it. You're nothing compared to him and you never will be.'  
  
James was dragging her away once more, blinded by her own fury she let him. Hesitating before the open door to the small helicopter, she turned, he was still standing there, cane in hand, the air from the rotor blades catching his overcoat, watching her. She felt her fury surge through her once more, and hauled herself up into the helicopter, James right behind her.   
  
She refused to look out of the window as they took off, refused to see Alec walk or drive away, she only unclenched her fists as they reached the sea, and the cold water broke in white peaks far below them. She replayed his words over and over again in her mind, torturing herself as they flew towards the trap that Lucinda Elliot had planned. 


	28. Chapter Twenty Six

A/N:   Apologies to anyone who thought I had abandoned this story, I hope this reassures you that I haven't.  Call it a bad case of writer's block, caused by knowing the end is near, combined with starting back at Uni once more.  Apparently they expect you to work in your final year!

To Siobhan: Because my email account has been playing up.  Thank you for the WIP you sent me, I have read it, and thoroughly enjoyed it, your characterisation of Alec was superb, and the dialogue between M and him was amazing, very believable, very 'true'.  I would be delighted if you chose to continue with this WIP, I have a feeling it could be a very good story to develop.

 Alley.

I hope to update this sometime some, I have finally got the next scene worked out in my head, its just case of getting it onto paper.  Or a Word doc.

*

Metallic, imposing, and barely distinguishable from the iron grey water that surrounded it, Deronda's warship was anchored in the lonely ocean.  No land was visible, not even from this height, nothing but the grey ocean, its crashing waves tipped with foam, stretching out for miles, as far as the eye could see.  

The tension finally began to leave Ashleigh; she unclenched her fists, her short nails leaving little half moon indents in the tender flesh of her palm.  In the headphones that had been forced onto her as she had fought with her harness, she could hear the pilots making the preparations for landing. 

The anger had finally subsided.  But in its place there was nothing.  She felt emotionally drained.  Her knuckles hurt where they had caught Alec's cheekbone, she couldn't believe she had hit him.  However, she felt no remorse for her actions, as he had goaded her, she thought she had lost control, but she hadn't.  She had known exactly what she was doing, and the satisfaction of the first blow had been immense.  The look on his face had been priceless.  She gave a tiny smile, her first since Alec's tirade.

His bluntness about her father had shocked her.  To be honest, Ashleigh had few memories about her parents, but she knew that she had adored her father.  But since his death, she had refused to talk about it, to take the counselling on offer to her; even the counselling forced upon her at MI6 could not make her talk about him, or her mother.  The psychiatrist had given up.  There was nothing that could be done; Ashleigh was a perfectly normal, balanced agent apart from that one single factor.  And there appeared to be no psychological damage done by her parent's deaths.  Then Alec had decided to throw a few 'home truths' at her.

And they had hit her exactly where it hurt.  

For years she had questioned her father. Why had he died?  Why had he let himself get into a situation where he could be killed?  Was it weakness?  Had he failed because of the weakness inside him?  Would she fail, because she had the same weakness inside her?  Would she face her final moments with a gun against her head, and nothing but a bitter emptiness inside her? 

She no longer knew.  If that was to be her fate, as Alec so vehemently believed, then so be it.  There would only be a brief moment of pain, and then nothing, who would care if she died?  She would be dead, and have no say in the matter.  

Pulling away from such morbid thoughts, she finally felt able to focus on the mission. The situation they were placing themselves smack bang in the middle of, was so unbelievably stupid it could only involve James.  She glanced at his dark head, knowing that he had done far riskier things than this, but this would be the first time she had placed herself alone, miles away from any back up or support, and she knew the growing feeling beneath her anger was fear.  It was threatening to choke her again.  Running a hand over her face she fought down the urge to frantically order the pilots to return to shore, to leave her there and let her…

What?  Run back to Alec?  The man that seemed determined to confuse her.  She hated the way her thoughts kept sneaking back to him, but she couldn't help them.  One minute he was asking her to kill his enemies, the next he was offering her an escape route – with him.  How easy would it have been?  To just step forward, and to take his hand, accept his offer, and then what?  

She groaned, burying her head in her hands.  What could she and Alec ever have?  The man was a cold blooded killer, she was a spy for England.  Nothing could ever happen between them that hadn't already occurred.  Behind her anger she knew that, she had always known that she could never abandon her work, there were choices, so many choices to make, and Ashleigh had chosen the mission.  She had rejected him for a second time.  She breathed deeply, refusing to dwell on the traitorous bastard for a moment longer.  Janus was history to her.

Ashleigh realised they were losing height, starting the final descent towards Deronda's ship.  Staring out of the window she felt a prickle in her spine, aware on a base level that something wasn't right.  She turned to James, and saw that he too was staring fixedly outside, he was also aware of what she felt.

The ship was in view; its decks barren, a simple strip of grey floating upon the water.  James leant forward; she could hear him urgently appealing to the pilots.  

'After you drop us down, don't worry about us, do not stay on the ground a moment longer than you have to, just get the hell away from here.'

She listened to their reply, they could simply return to shore now, there was enough fuel on board to do so.

'No.  Just get the hell away once we're down.'

Leaning back James caught Ashleigh's anxious expression, and they stared at each other.  This went deeper than any bond they had ever previously shared, they both knew the danger they were in, both knew there was nothing they could do to stop it; all they could was look out for each other and hope they both survived.  They both knew what was wrong.

If this was supposed to be a mass gathering, then where was everybody else?

No other 'copters were in view, either airborne, or on the decks below, there was nothing.  They were alone, and there was no way this could be interpreted as a good thing.  They were being expected.  

The fear in Ashleigh's stomach grew.  Had Alec deliberately sent her into a trap?  Was this his revenge on James and her?  Surely there would have been no way he could have known.  In place of her anger there was suddenly a cold fury, she had no choice now but to complete this mission.

The descent became lower and lower, aspects of the deck became clearer, it was indeed deserted, the hairs on the back of her neck rose, and she realised she had never been so nervous about a situation before, there was no safe route for her to follow for once, everything seemed to lead to danger, and death.  She willed herself to breathe deeply, to calm, to find the agent within that struggled with her mortal self, focus on the agent, and nothing more, she told herself.  

The landing was rough, rocking and thudding, involuntarily she let out a small cry, and her hands scrabbled for a hold, to brace herself a moment too late.  Tears sprang unwillingly to her eyes, and she suddenly wished she had found a faith in her years on this planet, it seemed hypocritical to be suddenly asking a God she wasn't sure existed to protect her.  With the wishes of good luck ringing in her ears from the pilots, she pulled the headset from her head, her breaking of her safety line, and checked that her pass was visible on the front of the heavily padded and pocketed jacket.  She drew in a long shuddering breath, her stomach heaved, and she dropped her head, staring at her clasped hands.  

James stared at her, he could smell her fear, and once more he cursed M for sending her out here.  This time though it wasn't in protest about her inexperience, but she was his goddaughter, the woman that had been the child he had sworn to protect, and now she was risking her life for the same reasons he did, for the same reasons her father had died for.  Clumsily he fumbled for her hand, and held it, offering scant comfort, but comfort all the same.  She drew strength from his action, and glanced up at him, with warm brown eyes that were filled with a strange mixture of fear and determination, and he knew that she was as ready as she would ever be.  

The sound of their heavy boots landing upon the metal deck vibrated hollowly into the void, unnaturally loud.  It was the silence that hit Ashleigh first, there was no sounds of life at all, only the rotors of the chopper, the splash of the waves far below them, and the metallic creaking and settling of the ship.  It was decidedly eerie.  They were alone on the deck, there was nothing to do but to walk towards the ship's tower.

James saw him first, the single guard that stepped from the shadows, Ashleigh saw him a moment later, her eyes flickering towards the tall doughty man, her mouth drying as she saw the heavy machine gun he carried.  A second appeared, and then a third, one from every corner, from every nook and cranny they appeared, armed, their faces blank.

Feeling Ashleigh flinch beside him, her hesitation, James groped for her hand once more, reassuring her.  'Just keep walking,' he murmured to her, 'Keep your head held high, be aware, be strong, and do not let them intimidate you.'

It was easier said than done, Ashleigh decided, she felt as if she was walking into the lion's den, and the feeling was indeed intimidating and terrifying.  It was taking all her self control not to turn and bolt away, she had to do this, she had to, please, she begged herself, don't fail now.  Mentally she pulled herself together, squaring her shoulders, gaining her focus, just think of each step, and keep going forward, that's all you can do.  James felt her straighten beside him, and in a strange rush of emotion, was proud of her, proud that she could focus when the pressure was on.

Ashleigh walked as if she was in a trance, simply putting one foot in front of the other, letting nothing distract her, least of all the blank gazes of the guards that seemed to burn through her.  Behind her she could hear the blades of the helicopter rotating faster and faster, the steady thudding of the engine getting louder until her heart seemed to pound in time with it, and then the ship rolled beneath her feet as the weight of the helicopter was released.  

Then the explosion.

Sudden.  It was so sudden.  Horrendously loud, Ashleigh felt it in the pit of her stomach as much as he heard it, her hands flew to her ears, she was aware of James grabbing her, pulling her into his body as the heat wave hit them, searing, burning, so hot, rushing past her in a wave of heat and sound.  The air was alive with burning pieces of metal, propelled shrapnel, Ashleigh felt a piece bounce heavily across her back, heard James swear as he was caught on the back of his hand by a jagged shard of hot metal, she held him tighter, reluctant to see what she knew had happened, burying her face into his shoulder, until she had to look, had to see the devastation.

The helicopter had been targeted before it had barely been twenty feet off the ship.  Instantly exploding into a blazing fireball, the skeletal outline of the vehicle visible in the flames, two lives instantly lost in a burning second.  The wreck crashed down hard onto the deck, now nothing more than a red hot wreck of burning metal.  Ashleigh finally found her legs, staring in horror at the twisted hunk   She was shocked at the cold blooded killing of the two innocent men, and at the thoughts of them, she felt the nauseous feelings rise once more, realising the fragile hold on life, less than five minutes ago they had been alive and talking to her, now they were dead, killed for no reason other than to prove a megalomaniac's power.

'Oh god,' she whispered, as she suddenly saw they extent that Deronda was willing to prove what he could do.  He had no hesitation in killing two innocent men who were doing nothing more than delivering the agents there; she didn't even want to think what he would do to his actual enemies.

There was little time to dwell on the matter, little time to think what was going to happen next, because it was already happening, the guards started to surround them, to circle them, the barrels of their guns raised and pointed at them.  

'Walk,' one of them instructed, pointing them towards the large bridge of the ship.

So they walked.


	29. Chapter Twenty Seven

A/N:  Once more, sorry in the delay in updating, so many deadlines, so little time to focus on writing for pleasure.  Am getting into the swing of this finale now, and shall hopefully have some more time to write.  Please bear with me.

*

'Give me your watch,' James hissed, and then as Ashleigh hesitated, he repeated the order.  'Give me your watch.'

Discreetly as they walked along the deck, Ashleigh slid her hand into her sleeve and reluctantly began to undo her watch.  She didn't want to lose it just yet, it was the first time she had been issued with the heavy dialled, black strapped watch by the Q department, and her pride at the instrument was immense.  Now she had no choice but to give it to him, but as she didn't have any better plans, she hurriedly obeyed James.  

With a final tug, the strap worked free, and she secreted it in her palm, feeling the bunched up strap dig into her palm.  She was walking close enough to James so that they were shielded; quickly she passed him the watch.  

Staring fixedly ahead he worked on it, his fingers knowing the familiar buttons and functions of the watch, Ashleigh could only presume he was setting the explosive device that was wired into the dial.  She swallowed, wondering what he had in mind, still they walked along the deck, but the next time they crossed one of the many grills that were set into the metal, James let the watch fall into the depths of the hull.  Ashleigh heard it bounce against the metal bars, and then land somewhere deep below them with a hollow thunk.  

Ashleigh glanced at the stony face of her godfather as they walked, his jaw was set, no emotion as betrayed upon his features, and she realised that he had faced hopeless situations many times before.  It was his job, the double 0 agents always assigned the most dangerous of missions, sent in blindly, never knowing if they were going to return or not.  It was a small comfort that James had returned many times before.  If she had to be in this situation, then 007 wasn't a bad agent to be with.  She only hoped that whatever plan he had up his sleeve was going to work.  

Inside the ship everything was cold, clinical and metallic.  It reminded Ashleigh of the research facility; even the faceless armed guards seemed familiar.  The two agents were marched to the centre of a large control room, and surrounded by guards.  Silently they waited, unsure of what was going to happen next.  

Ashleigh had never laid eyes upon Caleb Deronda, and at first she didn't realise who the handsome man in front of her was.  He walked towards the agents with his arms held wide, as if in welcome, or to prove that he wasn't armed.  He smiled at Ashleigh, and she found herself hesitantly smiling back, her brow furrowed as she felt unfamiliar feelings course through her.  She had been expecting an ogre, a monster, not this suited, classically handsome man, who appeared to be in his mid to late thirties.  His brown hair had a tendency to curl, she noticed, and his eyes were a sludgy green.  She had the sudden urge to laugh madly, and felt the room tip beneath her feet, only James grasping her arm stopped her from falling to her knees.  

'007,' he said in greeting, polite and charming, a small smile on his face.  He turned to Ashleigh.  'And this must be Agent Kain.'

Ashleigh nodded dumbly, feeling completely out of her depth once more.  'Pleasure to meet you both at last.  I only wish it could have been in better circumstances, I have so many questions to ask you both.'

'Such as?' Bond was deliberately cold.

Deronda barely battered an eyelid as he turned back to Bond.  'I'm intrigued by many aspects of your work, 007, but one thing fascinates me is how you managed to escape my compound.'

'You already know the answer to that question, Deronda.'

'Yes, we do.'  A clear, cool, crisp voice, with little trace of an accent rang out through the ship.  On a metal walkway above them, a woman stood, blonde, petite and delicate.  Her appearance disguised her true nature, as Bond knew only too well.  She was looking down upon them with an expression of distaste on her pretty face.  

Ashleigh's first impression of Lucinda Elliot was of a walking china doll.  Her brown eyes met the icy blue pair of the other woman, and immediately knew that this was a rival.  It was a deep, innate reaction, and she was overwhelmed by the sudden feeling of hatred she had for this woman, despite never having met her before.

Bond saw the way Deronda's eyes flickered towards Lucinda.  There was a look of controlled anger on his face, as if he did not welcome this interruption.  With a tight smile on his face, he turned once more to his hostages. 

'I believe you've already met Lucinda Elliot, my colleague.'

'Now, now Caleb, that gives the wrong impression of me,' Lucinda's blue eyes glittered as she appeared to tease the man in front of her, 'I'm actually his business partner.'

Regally she made her way down the metal steps until she was level with the group.  Obediently the circle of armed guards parted to let her pass.  With a staggering amount of self possession she stalked up to Bond, and laid a hand upon his cheek.  

'James, such a delight to see you again.' She smiled, and Ashleigh felt a shiver pass down her spine. 'Although I do hope this time you refrain from knocking me unconscious.'

Bond merely stood there, his jaw tensed against her touch.  There was no hiding how much he despised this woman.  

'There will be time to talk with our guests later, Lucinda,' Deronda said, in a cold voice.  Turning, Lucinda smiled at her partner.  

'Of course there will be.  I just wanted to familiarise myself with them once more, and I do believe that we haven't been introduced.'

Once more she was staring at Ashleigh.  With the woman standing in front of her, it was increasing difficult not to ignore, or be intimidated by her presence.  Although it was with a degree of satisfaction that Ashleigh noticed she had a good three inches of height on the smaller woman.  

'My name is Ashleigh Kain,' Ashleigh said quietly, refusing to let this woman intimidate her.

Lucinda cast a slow glance over her, still with the smug little smile on her face.  'I had thought as much.  So you're Alec's new little whore.'

Ashleigh stared blankly over Lucinda's head, feeling the urge to flinch fill her. Just hearing this woman say his name was enough to send a shard of pain through her.

'That is enough, Lucinda!' Deronda's anger was plain to hear.  

For a moment it seemed like Lucinda would openly argue with Deronda, but at the last minute she bit her tongue.  Turning she smiled at Ashleigh.  'You and I shall have to talk later, just you and me, perhaps compare notes on Alec.'

Ashleigh stayed silent, fearing the tirade that would flow from her if she were to open her mouth.

'I hardly think we can be described as guests,' Bond intervened, 'I believe hostages would be a better choice of word.'

'Hostages?'  Deronda gave a hollow laugh.  'Whatever made you think that you and Miss Kain are hostages, Bond?'

'If we are guests, why was it necessary to blow up our transportation, killing two innocent men in cold blood?'

'A regrettable loss.  But entirely necessary.  We require your cooperation, Bond, we believe that you have something in your possession that we need.  And we would be most obliged if you would hand it over now.'

For once Bond was surprised.  'I'm afraid I have no idea what you are talking about.'

The simple charm that Deronda exuded immediately disappeared.  'Don't play games, Bond.  We know that either you or Agent Kain has it in your possession, and if you do not hand it over now, the consequences will be severe.'

His face was flushed an ugly shade of red, and a there was a bitter curl to his lip.  When there was no response, he turned away from them.  'Take them down to the hold.  Separately.'

Lucinda looked ready to protest, but an angry glance quelled her.  This was the time for a united show of power.  

Guards stepped forward, grabbing James and pulling him backwards.  As another grabbed her elbows, Ashleigh fought back.  'We're talking about a disc, right?  A small disc?'

Lucinda stopped, and turned round, her eyes glinting.  'Let her go,' she ordered the guard.  'You were saying, Miss Kain?'

Ashleigh stepped forward confidently.  'A small silver disc.  Blank, about so big,' she held up her left hand, curling her fingers to indicate the size.

'That's right,' Lucinda said warily.  Bond, still held back by the guards, watched with concern as Ashleigh spoke.

'Alec Trevelyan took it.'

'We know that, Kain.  What we want to know is where it is.'

'He showed it to me.  He was bragging about how important it was to you, and how he had taken it.'

'Ashleigh,' James tried to warn her, not clear on what she was doing.  

'He told me I could use it, that if I had it, I was the only person that would be able to bring you down.'

It seemed Lucinda had heard enough, her breathing had quickened, her cheeks were flushed as she yelled at the guards.  'Search her!'

Hands were roaming over her body, tugging at her, sliding inside her clothes, desperately Ashleigh tried to ignore them.  'You won't find it,' she shouted, 'He wouldn't give it to me.'

Lucinda shot a glance at one of the guards, who shrugged.  'It's not on her,' he confirmed.  'Although we did find this.'

They had ripped her silver pistol roughly from her ankle, the holster tearing at her skin.  She tried to ignore the stinging, and stood there, waiting for Lucinda to speak.  

Lucinda took the gun and examined it, it was a pretty, but lethal little trinket, and Ashleigh was curiously attached to it.  She hated seeing it in the other woman's hands.  

'Alec gave you this?' Lucinda asked curiously.

'Yes.  After the first night we spent together.'  Ashleigh shrugged.  There seemed no reason to deny it now.  

'Strange,' Lucinda ran her eyes over Ashleigh again, sizing up her rival, 'Alec isn't usually so generous with his gifts.'

Ashleigh's eyes narrowed under Lucinda's scrutiny.  This woman was telling her in no uncertain terms that she too had been Alec's lover.  It did nothing to endear her to Ashleigh.  

Lucinda was still staring at her, with the same curious expression on her face.  'Who would have thought that it would be a British spy that would make Alec rediscover his feelings?'

Still held in a tight grip, Bond could do nothing but stare at the blank face of his goddaughter.  She had finally learnt how to keep her emotions in check, but having witnessed the scene of mere hours ago, knew how much she would be hurting right now.  It did nothing to lessen the desire to kill Alec.  He was helpless now.

'Enough.'  Deronda stepped forward, and gazed at Ashleigh.  'She doesn't have the disc, Lucinda, she's worth nothing to us.'

'Don't be a fool, Caleb!' Lucinda snapped.  'She's worth everything to us.  How else do you think we're going to get Alec and the disc here?  Tell him we have his precious little whore, and that we'll be sending her to him in a box if he doesn't cooperate with our demands.'

She was raving, screaming orders. 'I want a ship to shore message sent to Alec Trevelyan, I don't care how you do it, I want him here, and I want him here now!'

Bond glanced once more at Ashleigh as guards moved again to restrain her.  Pulling her back he was surprised to hear a hollow laugh tear from her throat.  

'You think he'll come for me?' she rasped.  An almost manic grin tore across her face, and for a moment Bond wondered if they would have to deal with two hysterical females.  'Do you really think Alec Trevelyan gives a fuck about me?'

Lucinda hesitated, and turned at Ashleigh's words.  'What did you say?' she hissed, stalking over to where the other woman was being held.

'I said, do you really think Janus will come for me?  That he'll be willing to give up your precious disc for a British spy?  He doesn't want me anymore!  He dumped me.  He used me, and then he dumped me, as casually as every other woman he beds!  So demand he comes and gets me, ransom me off, he's not coming.  You've lost Elliot!  You've lost!'

Lucinda's face was inches from hers, bright red with fury, she was actually shaking with rage.  Reaching up, she slapped Ashleigh hard around the face, to get her to stop laughing, to take out some of her anger on her, her fingers clawed as she struck the pale skin of Ashleigh's cheek, her nails gouging out three parallel gashes on Ashleigh's face.

Still shaking, she turned to Deronda.  'You deal with him,' she spat, pointing at Bond.  'I'll deal with her.'


	30. Chapter Twenty Eight

A/N: Sorry for such a long delay in updating, moving house caused all sorts of chaos. Lost files, lost internet connection for two months, far too much chaos for one bloody house move. Thank you for your patience.  
  
*  
  
Lucinda Elliot stalked towards her newest enemy, with a look of evil glinting in her eye. Ashleigh stood stonily still, her eyes fixed on some unknown spot up ahead, refusing to acknowledge the other woman's proximity. Lucinda circled her slowly, sizing her up, taking in her height advantage. With a sudden movement she grabbed the collar of Ashleigh's military style jacket and yanked it downwards, revealing Ashleigh's bare arms, pale skinned, and toned with years of working out. The woman was strong, Lucinda had to admit, but then, so was Lucinda. She held the jacket, her hands stroking it in an exploring manner.  
  
'You,' she gestured to one of the nameless guards. 'Search her again.'  
  
'But we already have... she was clean,' the guard protested.  
  
It was a mistake to answer back to a woman like Elliot. Lucinda's china doll face contorted in fury as she snarled at the guard, 'Do it!'  
  
She had made no physical threat to the guard, but Bond had a feeling her reputation proceeded her, the guard hurried to do her bidding. Stay calm, he thought, staring at his goddaughter's blank face. Stay calm, that's right. Ashleigh barely flinched as the guard's hands invaded her personal space once more.  
  
Lucinda stared at the jacket she held in her hand, and with a look of twisted pleasure, firmly tore the seams apart. Deronda flinched, seeing the small, elegant hands resort to brutality, a look of distaste at her actions settled onto his handsome features.  
  
'Get on with it Elliot,' he frowned. 'Time is already short.'  
  
'I want whatever Alec gave her!' Lucinda howled.  
  
'I told you!' Ashleigh almost screamed the words. 'Nothing! He gave me nothing.'  
  
It was a struggle to regain her composure, shivering in the cold air, flinching every time Alec's, no, she refused to think of his name, 'Janus's' name was mentioned.  
  
Lucinda's eyes narrowed. 'Then you are worth nothing to me.'  
  
She snatched a rifle from another guard and tore the shoulder strap from it. She grabbed Ashleigh's wrists, and yanked them together, wrapping the woven strap around them, tightening it until Ashleigh felt her hands begin to tingle with the lack of circulation. Lucinda examined her handiwork with a critical eye, reaching out and adjusting the final knot in a controlled manner.  
  
'But before we get down to anything, I think we should have a little chat, all girls together,' she purred, 'Perhaps compare notes. After all, we do have a certain someone in common.'  
  
'Lucinda,' Deronda grumbled. 'Enough of your games, it's time to start taking this seriously.'  
  
'Oh, but I am taking it seriously,' Lucinda said with a sickly smile. 'Far more seriously than you can ever imagine.'  
  
As she spoke, she grabbed Ashleigh, jerking her along by the strap between her hands. As she pushed her rival towards a door, she turned back towards Deronda and Bond for a final time. 'Just remember that, Caleb, and never underestimate me.'  
  
With that, the two women disappeared into the door. In the brief moment before Ashleigh bowed her head he caught sight of her pale, composed face, her dark eyes meeting his for a moment. She nodded at him, trying to convey everything she was thinking into that one gesture. I'll be fine, she seemed to say, don't worry. This is my fate.  
  
Her fate. Bond had long since learnt that his own life had little value, he had faced death more times than he wished to think of. But Ashleigh? He didn't want her to suffer. If she died here, he thought, let it be quick. Then he remembered Lucinda's penchant for pain, and severely doubted she'd let a rival have an easy death.  
  
Lucinda was the danger here. Lucinda was the real enemy, not this smooth talking charmer in front of him. Deronda was watching Bond with a casual stance. He seemed to have ignored his business partner's parting shot, and was now staring at Bond.  
  
'Finally, Mr. Bond, we have the chance to talk.'  
  
'So it seems. Hardly the time for a pleasant chit chat though.'  
  
'But perhaps the time for you to answer a few of my questions.'  
  
Bond eyed the other man wearily. 'Such as?'  
  
'How exactly did you obtain the plans to my compound?' Deronda asked the question in a tone more suitable for asking how the weather was. 'As far as I am aware, Lucinda had the only blueprints.'  
  
'Perhaps she should try concealing them better in future then, if she doesn't want people to come across them.'  
  
Deronda smiled sadly. 'I had suspected as much, but then, Lucinda always has rather gone her own way.'  
  
'You don't trust her, do you?' Bond realised suddenly. The suspicion had been creeping up on him for some time now. Deronda and Elliot were in no way united, and perhaps, just perhaps that would be their undoing. He just had to work the situation to his advantage.  
  
'Not in the least, Bond,' Deronda laughed, a rich, vibrant laugh. 'I'm afraid Lucinda is going to be rather disappointed when she discovers what my true plans for Hermes are.'  
  
'And what exactly are you planning to do with it?'  
  
The villain's ultimate weakness. Utmost arrogance, and self belief, so much so that the desire to praise their own brilliance became too much, and they would chatter on incessantly about what wonderful plans they had made. Bond had heard them all before.  
  
'I have no intention of releasing Hermes,' Deronda confirmed, 'I have no interest in destroying this world when there are other options available. More financially viable options shall we say.'  
  
'Really? You surprise me. I had absolutely no idea that economics may come into this somewhere.'  
  
'Everything is about economics in this day and age, Bond, one must make ends meet, where one can.'  
  
'Of course,' Bond nodded. 'And Lucinda will comply with your plans?'  
  
'She will do what I tell her.' Deronda's face darkened.  
  
'Lucinda has no plans of her own?'  
  
'This is a matter that is no concern of yours, Mr Bond.' Deronda's anger was rising.  
  
'Lucinda Elliot works only for Lucinda Elliot. She's taken my agent, God knows what she plans to do with her, and she'll kill in cold blood Deronda, who knows what else she's capable of.'  
  
'Ah yes, your agent. I understand there was a family connection, your goddaughter?'  
  
'Yes.'  
  
'A shame. But there will always be causalities.'  
  
'And how many causalities will there be if Lucinda gets her way?'  
  
'Mr. Bond, you're beginning to try my patience.'  
  
'Lucinda is a threat to your plan, whatever she plans to do, its far more than just sell Hermes to the highest bidder. Your plan is at risk from her madness, you've seen her today. If you stand in her way, she'll destroy you.'  
  
Deronda scowled. 'Enough, Bond. I let no man, or woman, dictate to me. Especially not an English spy.'  
  
'We'll see. We'll see.'  
  
They were the same height, their eyes locked directly opposite each other. Neither was willing to give in.  
  
*  
  
To add insult to injury, Lucinda was leading Ashleigh deeper into the ship with the small silver pistol Alec had given her lodged firmly into the base of Ashleigh's spine. Deeper and deeper they went, down level by level through narrow metal corridors, past pipes and complicated looking machinery. At some point Ashleigh felt the pressure in her ears change, and knew that they were under the surface of the water. Still they kept walking, past more guards. At a doorway, one stepped back to let them pass and Ashleigh looked pleadingly into his face. Please, she asked, communicating with her eyes, help me. The guard's eyes slid over her face, with seemingly no interest, and then ignored her. He made no signs of having recognised her plea.  
  
Each breath she took was one to savour, each step forward was heading towards death. Lucinda was going to kill her, sooner or later, she could feel the cold metal of the barrel of the gun through the thin material of her vest. She would have little or no warning of when the bullet would tear through her flesh.  
  
The mission had failed, Lucinda had the upper hand, Deronda had the upper hand with Bond, all that was left was to die. She hated the thought she had failed. She stumbled slightly, her hands bound, she was unable to stop herself from crashing sideways into the wall. Breathing heavily she leant against it, her shoulder aching where it had struck the coarse metal. Lucinda laughed.  
  
'Rest all you want, it makes no difference to me.'  
  
Ashleigh suspected that if Lucinda had a nail file at this point, she'd be filing her perfectly manicured nails. The blonde was about as casual as she could be.  
  
Light and dark. Both pale skinned, both intelligent, two women, one blonde, one brunette. And each had been in Alec Trevelyan's bed. Lucinda twisted the pistol into Ashleigh's back. Ashleigh gasped in pain, trying to pull away, but Lucinda was relentless.  
  
'Such a sweet little token,' Lucinda finally said, examining the weapon. Lucinda twisted the pistol into Ashleigh's back. Ashleigh gasped in pain, trying to pull away, but Lucinda was relentless.  
  
'It means nothing to me.' Ashleigh muttered.  
  
'Of course it doesn't.' Lucinda laughed. Reaching out, she tilted Ashleigh's chin up so she could look at the younger woman. 'Alec has let his standards slip, since me.'  
  
Don't rise, Ashleigh thought to herself. She forced a painful shrug, the strap still cutting into her wrists.  
  
'Alec's had you, he's had me, and he's had just about every beautiful woman in Russia in his bed. Power can be such an aphrodisiac, especially in a man like Alec. Tell me,' her grip tightened hard on Ashleigh's jaw. 'Was he gentle with you? Or did you like it when he played roughly? What did he promise you in return for your body?'  
  
Lucinda felt the other woman's jaw muscles tighten in her hand. She smirked, knowing she was getting to her.  
  
Had he been rough with her? Ashleigh wondered. He had certainly been possessive, crushing her with his body, slamming her back against a wall, his mouth demanding hers; she had raked her nails down his back, her teeth scraping his shoulders, as demanding as he had been. But there had been gentleness too, whispered endearments, soft caresses, always tinged with danger, and the knowledge that it could not last.  
  
And what had she been promised? A truce that had been fulfilled on his part, while she was still lacking. Before that truce? Nothing, she had allowed her own passions to lead her, permitted herself a brief moment of no control, and given into her desire for him.  
  
'I'm afraid I must disappoint you again, Janus didn't promise me anything. I don't bed men for what I can earn.'  
  
The implied insult riled Lucinda who jerked her hand away. 'More fool you,' she spat. 'Alec has so much to offer. Power, money, status, anything you want.'  
  
The blonde raised a thin, delicate eyebrow, her confidence almost overwhelming Ashleigh. She desperately tried to push Alec from her mind, to repress any feelings she may have for the man beyond hatred deep within her. Just the thought of him caused her pain.  
  
'So it seems,' Ashleigh murmured. 'Everything, but want you want the most. It was just sex, and when Alec was bored of me, that was it. He didn't give me any disc and we didn't exactly say goodbye on good terms.'  
  
A muscle flickered in Lucinda's cheek and Ashleigh smirked.  
  
'Why don't you give in now, Lucinda? Without the disc, Hermes is useless. The disc contains access codes, I presume, complicated, long coded figures. You hadn't gambled on losing it. It'll take weeks, perhaps months to gain access to the final code. If you're going to sell Hermes to the highest bidder, you're screwed. What buyer is going to buy a defective product? You've lost, Lucinda, even if you kill me, you've lost. Alec's not going to give you the disc in return for me. He doesn't give a toss about me. You've lost.'  
  
Ashleigh was surprised when Lucinda let out a scream of laughter. 'Sell Hermes? You think I wish to sell such a powerful weapon?'  
  
'What?' An icy hand seemed to grip Ashleigh's heart as the blonde laughed. 'You can't mean...'  
  
'Exactly, Agent Kain of British Foreign Intelligence.' Her words dripped with sarcasm. Lucinda paused, and slowly looked Ashleigh up and down as if seeing Ashleigh for the first time. 'A British spy. You must have been a conquest for Alec, I can imagine that the irony appealed to him.'  
  
Ashleigh forced herself to ignore her words, forced herself to ask the question to get the conversation back on track. 'You plan to release Hermes?'  
  
'Not immediately. There are a few more trivialities to deal with, paperwork and such, you wouldn't understand.'  
  
'When?'  
  
'I had rather thought New Years Eve. A new beginning, it seemed appropriate.' Ashleigh was staring in horror. 'But surely to release Hermes, you need the access codes.'  
  
'Don't be so stupid. If I want to release Hermes, all I need do is drop one of the vials anywhere in the world, and allow Mother Nature to do the rest. Anyone in the vicinity of Ground Zero will be infected, they will go on to infect anyone they meet, it's rather a deadly chain letter. And when finally all those that are infected are dead, those with the immunity to the virus will require someone, to guide them, shall we say?'  
  
'And you'll be there, waiting to fill that post.'  
  
'Of course. It rather appears that I already have a natural immunity to the virus- a guaranteed survival. This vaccination Caleb has obtained, well, it works well in a test situation, but against a full onslaught of Hermes? Who can tell if it would be as successful as hoped?'  
  
'But the access codes... If you don't need them then why do you want them so badly?'  
  
'If I simply drop a vial, then I release Hermes, but it will take several weeks, maybe months to spread across the world. I'm a very impatient person. If I have several 'ground zeros'...'  
  
'Then you have the same result, only it spreads in a matter of days, not months...' Ashleigh's mouth was dry, her voice weak and filled with horror.  
  
'New York, Lima, New Mexico, Los Angeles, London, Paris, Madrid, Berlin, Oslo, Moscow, Rome, Beijing, Sydney, Tokyo...' Lucinda reeled the geographical list off. 'The access codes allow me to release all of these sites simultaneously. If I can't do one way, we'll have to go back to basics. Either way, I win, not lose.'  
  
Ashleigh slumped against the wall, defeat clear in every muscle, failure etched onto her features. New Years Eve, barely four weeks away. Effectively, for most of the human race, the world would end for them then.  
  
'I wouldn't fret,' Lucinda ran the gun down Ashleigh's cheek, 'You'll be long dead.'  
  
Ashleigh forced herself to raise her head, her resolve hardened. She nodded slowly. 'So be it.'  
  
Lucinda raised the gun, pressed it hard against the centre of Ashleigh's forehead. So Alec had been right, she was cursed to die like her father. It didn't matter anyway. The whole world was going to die, what did her life mean? Lucinda's blue eyes bore into hers, and she would not look away, she would not beg for her life, or plead for mercy.  
  
'Just remember,' Lucinda whispered. 'It's never just sex.'  
  
With the gun pressed against her head, and the knowledge that death had his hand upon her shoulder, Ashleigh struggled to think of a suitable reply.  
  
The explosion that tore through the ship rather prevented her having to. 


	31. Chapter Twenty Nine

The watch had been slowly counting down deep within the bowels of the ship. Upon reaching zero, it simply fulfilled its requirements, and exploded. Q had once more excelled himself, the amount of explosive charge he had prepared the watch with was extraordinary. The explosion tore into the side of the ship causing not a major amount of damage, but created a gash into the side of the metal hull. Immediately sea water, raw and salty began to gush in. The ship slowly began to creak forwards, inch by slow inch, barely noticeable at first.  
  
The damage was enough.  
  
*  
  
The explosion had caused enough of a distraction for Bond to launch an attack on Deronda. The two men began a desperate struggle for supremacy. Deronda was quick, strong, powerful, a good match for Bond.  
  
Punches were thrown, the men wrestled, all the while the ship was sinking.  
  
*  
  
The explosion that had occurred was disturbingly close to where Lucinda and Ashleigh were faced off. The water pressure inside the chamber built as the two women glanced round in confusion. Lucinda withdrew the gun away from Ashleigh and turned to face down the corridor. A roaring sound was building up somewhere nearby, an awful loud, terrifying sound.  
  
The metal hatch at the end of the corridor exploded in a huge cascade of roaring water, sweeping the two women away.  
  
It was like being hit by a brick wall, Ashleigh was flung off her feet and propelled backwards, freezing cold salty water filling her mouth, her nose, the breath knocked out of her. She was unable to help herself, her hands locked together; she kicked frantically trying to keep afloat.  
  
Lucinda. Where was Lucinda? Forcing her eyes open, the salty water burning them, she could make out tendrils of blonde hair ahead of her. If she lost track of Lucinda, she was dead, simple as that.  
  
The water pressure finally eased now it had places to go, and the two women found themselves unceremoniously dumped against a wall. For a moment, both of them lay there, spitting out water, wondering what on earth had happened.  
  
Ashleigh groaned, she had hit the wall hard, and dropped down to land awkwardly on her arms. She fought to raise herself to her feet. Her brain struggled to work, she tried to push the wet hair from her face, wipe the water from her eyes. Lucinda was doing the same, their eyes met, and the rivals realised that things were once more equal. Lucinda had dropped the gun at some point, they both threw themselves forward, but Lucinda had already reached it, standing, gun aimed directly at Ashleigh who fought to stand.  
  
Lucinda's thumbs edged towards the safety, but Ashleigh reacted completely on instinct, kicking out high and hard, her foot catching the gun, sending it soaring well out of arms reach, it landed in the water with a wet thud.  
  
For a moment, Ashleigh savoured her brief moment of victory, allowing a small smile of satisfaction at the look of fury that crossed Lucinda's face, but it seemed she was prepared with a back up plan, the blonde launched herself at Ashleigh, something bright and sharp glittering in her hand. Ashleigh forced herself to one side, but it was too late to prevent Lucinda slamming her back against the wall, something buried itself deep with her right arm, and Ashleigh screamed at the sudden pain that tore through her. Then the foreign object was gone as Lucinda pulled back, in her left hand a small, but sharp, and definitely lethal knife. Blood was gushing down Ashleigh's arm, it felt hot and heavy, but still she was able to move it.  
  
Lucinda threw an arm out, pinning Ashleigh by the chest to the wall, preparing for the next strike. It was time to play dirty, and Ashleigh slammed her head forward, feeling her forehead bounce off Lucinda's nose. She'd never attempted to headbutt someone before, and now she knew why, small stars danced in the corners of her vision, and her head exploded in pain. It had the desired effect though; Lucinda fell back clutching her nose, blood appearing between her finger, bright red and fresh.  
  
'Bitch!' Lucinda howled, obviously in some pain.  
  
She's never fought properly before, Ashleigh realised suddenly, she'd never had someone hit her deliberately, with the intent to hurt her. It gave Ashleigh, even though her hands were bound, a distinct advantage. All the academy training, all the mock fights, all the missions previously, she'd learnt how to throw a punch, and more importantly, how to take one. She could win this. She knew she could.  
  
Lucinda looked up, and Ashleigh saw, over her bloodstained hand, that the china blue eyes were filled with rage. Just concentrate, Ashleigh told herself, block and defend, and get that bloody knife well away from her. The attack came sooner than she expected, but she was ready this time, Lucinda ran at her, knife held high, and the advantage was there, and Ashleigh took it, managing to grab Lucinda's knife hand and twist it back in a direction that it was never meant to bend in. It threw them both off balance, and with a splash, they fell struggling into the water, Ashleigh landing heavily on top of the other woman.  
  
It wasn't exactly how Ashleigh had planned it, but the other woman was smaller than her, it was easy to put all her weight on Lucinda, hold her under the water, oh god, how long did it take someone to drown, she was counting silently, she counted one minute, a minute and a half, and then Lucinda went limp. Her body laid motionless under the water, her blonde hair floating in the slight current.  
  
She was dead.  
  
Feeling nauseous, the same feeling that swamped her every time she took a life, she staggered to her feet. Blindly she looked round, the water was rapidly turning red, she glanced down at her arm, saw the open wound there, red and raw, and gagged. Fighting for control, she weaved through the water, unsteady on her feet, wondering how long it would take to reach the higher levels of the ship.  
  
The hand that snaked out to grab her ankle was fast, and unnoticed. Ashleigh felt the sharp tug, and fell face first in the water, her head hitting hard against the floor. Did the other woman still have the knife? She could feel Lucinda's knees resting heavily on her back, she couldn't breathe, the water was choking her.  
  
Through the water ahead she could see a pillar with large riveted holes punched through. Summoning all her strength she dragged herself toward it, Lucinda a dead weight on her back.  
  
She didn't want to die, she didn't want to die here, somewhere where her body would never be found. She didn't want to die.  
  
Her fingers closed around a rivet, reaching up she hooked her fingers around the metal ledge. Her lungs were bursting, she had to get air, she had to fill her lungs. Muffled by the water, she could hear Lucinda laughing above her. It gave her the anger she needed to propel herself the final few inches, and heave, she got a good grip and heaved herself upwards, sucking in air. She had her leverage, and she felt Lucinda topple from her back.  
  
Turning, she saw the knife fall from Lucinda's grasp, catching the light as it turned in the air, and all bets were off, it was all down to simple luck now. Life or death depending on which woman got the knife first. Both were on their knees, hands scrabbling in the water, pushing the other out of the way, desperately trying to reach it. Ashleigh felt her hands brush against the handle, but she was too clumsy, hindered by her tied hands, she merely knocked it towards Lucinda.  
  
Triumph shined madly in Lucinda's eyes, mad, crazy triumph as her fingers closed around the knife. Her hands were coming out of the water. Without thinking, Ashleigh grabbed Lucinda by the wrist and jerked upwards, met with sudden resistance. Pulling back, Ashleigh saw the knife was buried deep within Lucinda's throat, Lucinda's hand still firmly wrapped round the handle, but with Ashleigh's hands locked round hers. Lucinda's eyes were wide with shock and pain, blood bubbling at her mouth, staining her teeth and lips a horrific red. She gave a horrible, liquid laugh, spraying Ashleigh with droplets of blood, then slumped forwards.  
  
She died in Ashleigh's arms, and Ashleigh staggered under the sudden weight. She embraced the dead body awkwardly, supporting her by the knife alone, until with a jerk she pulled the knife free.  
  
Blood. There was blood everywhere, slicked over Ashleigh's arms, Lucinda's blood mixing with her own, there was so much blood, and Ashleigh moaned, dropping Lucinda face first into the water. As lifeless as a doll, Lucinda's body floated, buffeted by the current, staining the water all around her a brilliant red. She floated idly along, until Ashleigh, unable to bear it a moment longer, placed a boot firmly into her ribs and shoved the body along until it was caught by the current, floating slowly down the passage way.  
  
Her hands were slick with blood, she nearly dropped the knife more than once as she desperately tried to get the knife to an angle where she could saw at the strap. She slipped, dragging the sharp blade along the edge of her hand so more blood flowed, but finally, finally she managed to damage the strap enough until she could break it free.  
  
For a moment, Ashleigh stood panting, massaging her wrists, smearing more blood onto her pale skin. Lucinda still floated, a distant shape bobbing in the water.  
  
'I've done it,' she whispered to herself. 'That's part of it done.'  
  
Her body was shaking, she felt sick, but there was no time to think about things yet. The ship lurched beneath her feet, and she heard the eerie creak of metal underwater, unfamiliar, but definitely recognisable. She knew immediately the explosion had done more than sweep the two women away, and she knew time was running out.  
  
She'd completed the first part of her deal with Alec. Lucinda was dead, Bond and Deronda were god knows where. She had to keep moving, she had to find a control room. Mentally she called up the blueprints of the ship that Alec had shown her. The most likely location was on a higher level, and she began the long wade upwards and onwards.  
  
Blood trailed in her wake. 


	32. Chapter Thirty

The blow hit James hard on the jaw, and he crashed backwards, slipping on the wet metal. Blood was drying on his lip, his eyebrow had been split in a previous blow and blood trickled slowly into his line of vision. Raising a hand he wiped away the blood from his lip but only succeeded in breaking the wound open again.  
  
He ached; he had no idea how long they had been fighting for. He was definitely getting too old for this, he thought with a humourless grimace. Deronda matched Bond in every way, the same height, similar weight, the same speed, strength and intelligence, not to mention the same desire to win.  
  
Their fight had led them into a long dark room, devoid of any guards, or anybody else. Like rats deserting a sinking ship, Bond thought irritably, he could only guess that everybody on board had long gone, men like that had no loyalty when it came to saving their own skin.  
  
Somewhere far below them, a woman had screamed. The sound had wrenched at him, and he had stopped immediately, listening hard for any further noise. When none had come, he was forced to face his fear. Ashleigh was most likely dead, even if she had somehow survived Lucinda; the water level must be dangerously high down there, and with her hands tied...  
  
His train of thought had been broken by Deronda's fist. The two men had struggled fiercely, until their battle had led them here. The electric lights above their heads flickered and then failed, sparks began to fly from all the electrical outputs.  
  
'Give it up, Bond!' Deronda shouted, wiping blood away from the corner of his mouth. A well timed punch had knocked one of his teeth out. 'This is it. You can't win this!'  
  
But that was just it. James Bond would never give in. Summoning his strength, he launched himself once more at Deronda.  
  
*  
  
On a lower level, the water level was indeed rising, but so was Ashleigh. She had found a flight of stairs, and was now hurrying up them as fast as she could, grateful that the higher she got, the less water there was.  
  
The lights flickered above her ahead, and she hesitated. Sparks began to fly from the light socket, and with a creak as loud as the ship, the fluorescent strip crashed towards her. She screamed, and jumped back, hands over her head. This was getting dangerous, having survived Lucinda, she was now in danger of drowning or electrocution. Determinedly, she continued her haul upwards, what else could she do?  
  
Finally she reached areas that seemed familiar, or at least their layout did. She paused, reading the deck number, and with a deep breath, plunged through the nearest door.  
  
Thank god for small mercies, she thought briefly, the electrics were yet to fail her. There was still light and still power in this room, and by the looks of it, she was going to need both.  
  
Row after row of computers faced her, each glowing eerily in the dim light. This was it, this was her chance.  
  
She threw herself onto the floor next to the nearest computer, and yanked her left foot up awkwardly, ignoring the pain in her right arm. Blood stained fingers struggled to pry the heel from her thick boot. A final yank and the rubber came away easily. She smiled, it was still there. Inside the small compartment gouged into the sole of her boot, slightly waterlogged, but no worse for wear, the small disc Alec had slipped her was snug and safe in its hiding place.  
  
Ashleigh's finger jabbed at the CD-ROM drive of the PC nearest her, it slid open with a hiss. In went the disc, and Ashleigh waited anxiously as the machine whirred and hummed into life.  
  
A single beep, and then suddenly, the screen was filled with row after row of numbers, dashing by, seemingly random, Ashleigh stared at them, trying to see if a pattern emerged until finally, they stopped, and the access codes to Hermes were revealed to her.  
  
She held her breath. She had worked in the Cryptography section of MI6 for nearly eighteen months, proving herself to have a natural talent to spot patterns and sequences where others did not. M had been reluctant to assign such a logical mind elsewhere, but despite Ashleigh's success as a cryptographer, she had wanted to take on a far more physical role within the agency. Now it seemed her talent would serve her well.  
  
The glow of the screen highlighted the concentration on her face, her mind working through possibility after possibility. Time stood still for her, all she could think about was the numbers. Find the sequence, just find the sequence.  
  
Suddenly, she blinked. No. It couldn't have been that simple. But then... with a name like Hermes, should she really be surprised?  
  
*  
  
'Any news?' M's tone was deceptively calm, she refused to let the strain show on her face. Contact had been lost with both agents, and the helicopter that had delivered them to the ship had vanished off the face of the earth. Neither were particularly good signs and there was an air of despondency within the room.  
  
'None, sir,' a radio operator glanced up briefly before returning to his screen.  
  
M sighed. She hated to show favouritism towards agents, and tried to convince herself that it was merely because MI6 couldn't afford to lose an agent like Bond that she would give this order. 'Send out troops to the last known co-ordinates of Deronda's ship.'  
  
*  
  
Ashleigh still stared at the screen, for a moment doubting her own judgement. The theory of Occams Razor suddenly leaped into her mind - the simplest, the most obvious solution was quite often the correct one. The code was, at first, seemingly very complex, but it had broken down before her eyes, a series of numbers based upon the ancient Greek alphabet.  
  
If she was correct in her calculations, she should be able to stop the release of Hermes on New Year's Eve. And ultimately, everything she had been doing had been leading up to this moment. The creak of the hull of the ship brought her crashing back to reality, it was all very well gloating over her success, but if she lingered there any longer, she may well find herself losing power, and shortly heading for the bottom of the sea.  
  
It was the wake up call she needed. Before she could change her mind, her fingers lightly dashed over the keyboard, and decidedly she jabbed down hard on 'ENTER'. It was done. Before her eyes, a new menu appeared, and seconds later, Hermes was deactivated. She had done it.  
  
The click behind her surprised her. Spinning she saw a protective glass sheet slide back from a compartment on the wall. Her curiosity piqued, she headed over there.  
  
Two vials were contained within a thick protective container, locked into place. Ashleigh's eyes widened, and slowly, her hand shaking she reached for it. Hermes. She held Hermes in her hand. There was little light in the room and she turned it over in her hands, seeing nothing within the vials. She squinted, but still nothing, perhaps the merest hint of cloudiness, but nothing else. Yet in her hands she held the virus that was capable of destroying the world. And whoever held Hermes, held the world in their hands.  
  
She felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. This is what they had been fighting for; this is what people had killed for. A shiver coursed through her, this is what Alec had wanted for himself. And she held it now. In that moment she realised the lure of control, the lust for power. If she returned, she would have to hand this over to M, and it would vanish into the depths of secrecy, never to be seen again. If she kept it, she could demand anything she wanted. She could have that power, the power that Alec wanted. Alec. She laughed. If she went to Alec with Hermes, she would have him in the palm of her hand. Together they could become a force to be reckoned with, a power which none could rival.  
  
Her hands were shaking, the blood that covered her hands and upper body was now slowly smearing itself over the casing of Hermes as she turned it around and around, examining it from all angles. She had killed for this. Killed so she could prevent its release. She knew now. She knew how easy it would be to cross the line, to let ambition come over her and tempt her to the other side, to deny everything she had ever fought for, everything her father had fought for. To become as cold and heartless as Lucinda had been. The thought dragged her back, and she gave a small cry, ashamed at the thoughts that filled her mind. Before she could change her mind, she rammed the container deep into one of the pockets of her trousers. She wouldn't become one of them. Temptation may beckon her forward, but she wouldn't go.  
  
Blood still poured from her right bicep, she was cold and shivering, but she felt a sense of victory at long last. James would be proud of her.  
  
James.  
  
Where was he?  
  
Panicked, she started to run. She could only hope that it wasn't too late.  
  
*  
  
Caleb Deronda was a powerful man. Used to getting his own way, he could not imagine losing this battle against a man such as James Bond. This man had dared to come up against him, and for that insult, Caleb would destroy him.  
  
His plan had been foolproof. Until the British had interfered. If they hadn't, then the sale of Hermes and the vaccination against it would have gone ahead as planned, and Caleb would have been on his way to his Caribbean hideout within ours. And Lucinda Elliot would have been a distant memory. She would have been furious with him, but he would have been long gone with no way of being traced. And the profits from Hermes safely deposited in several off shore bank accounts. It was hard work being a criminal mastermind, but occasionally the ventures paid off. Hermes should have succeeded.  
  
Instead he was standing on the remains of his warship as it slowly sank into the icy Russian waters. But first he would destroy the man called James Bond.  
  
Both men were bruised. Both men were bleeding. Neither had the advantage over the other, but then, neither had the disadvantage either.  
  
Deronda spat a mouthful of blood out into the now knee height water.  
  
'What do you do now, Mr. Bond?' he asked, taking in the wary stance of the other man, the cold blue eyes watching his every move, black hair rumpled over a sweat soaked forehead. 'What does your training tell you to do now?'  
  
Bond circled the other man slowly, each man filled with pride and determination.  
  
'Checkmate 007,' Deronda snarled. 'What are you going do about it?'  
  
'He's not going to do anything. But I might.'  
  
The voice was strained with exhaustion, and cracked with pain. James's head snapped up, as did Deronda's.  
  
Ashleigh staggered from behind a pillar, blood stained, one arm clasping onto the other. Blood seeped through her fingers, her vest was torn, her face drained of blood. The scratch marks from Lucinda's nails were vivid on her pale skin.  
  
Deronda glared at her. Ashleigh stared back. Slowly she raised the silver pistol up, recovered from Lucinda's grasp. 'This ends now, Deronda. Now.'  
  
Her hand was trembling.  
  
Deronda never knew what hit him. In the moment of distraction caused by Ashleigh's appearance, Bond's hand found its way round a collapsed iron bar, solid, thick and undeniably heavy.  
  
Ashleigh's gaze slipped past Deronda's sludgy green eyes, and met James's. She nodded.  
  
Deronda turned. He saw the bar. He saw Bond.  
  
The bar connected viciously with the side of Caleb Deronda's head. With a deep groan he crashed into the water, which rapidly reddened with blood.  
  
Ashleigh waded forward, her dark eyes flickering from side to side as if expecting another onslaught from any direction. She collapsed against her godfather heavily.  
  
'Lucinda's dead,' she croaked.  
  
'How badly hurt are you?' he asked, trying to move her hand away from her arm.  
  
She shook her head. 'It's nothing. You?'  
  
'Fine.' They both froze as the ship rolled beneath their feet. 'We're out of time, we have to get out of here.'  
  
'Hermes...'  
  
'There's no time!' Bond slipped an arm under her shoulders. 'We have to go!'  
  
'No!' she protested. She fumbled with her pocket, yanking free the container, holding it up to show James. 'Enough to kill almost all the world's population...'  
  
'Secure it,' Bond ordered. He gestured towards the metal stairway, already beginning to head towards it. 'Ashleigh? Ashleigh, what are you doing?'  
  
'Is he dead?' Ashleigh stepped towards the immobile figure of Caleb Deronda, water lapping over his static features.  
  
'What?'  
  
'Is he dead?!' Ashleigh cried.  
  
Bond stepped back towards her. 'He's dead.'  
  
'I have to make sure,' Ashleigh muttered, standing over the prone figure. 'It was part of the deal...'  
  
'There isn't time!' Bond shouted over the increasingly loud metallic creaking. 'The ship is sinking!'  
  
'I know!' she screamed. 'But I promised him, I would kill Deronda! It was part of the deal! I have to make sure he's dead!'  
  
Bond grabbed her arm, but with a vicious howl, she turned, and slammed her hands against his chest. Caught off guard he stumbled backwards.  
  
'I have to do this James, its one of the conditions. I made a deal, I gave my word, and I don't go back on that.'  
  
Her hands shaking to the point where she could barely aim straight, but she raised the pistol, fumbling with the safety and fired.  
  
In the centre of Caleb Deronda's forehead a singed black hole marred his smooth, water soaked skin. Ashleigh closed her eyes against the sight.  
  
'It's done. I owe you nothing now,' she spat. Bond didn't need to ask to whom she said the words to. With a small cry she threw the pistol into the water next to the body. She never wanted to see it again. It could rust at the bottom of the ocean for eternity, she didn't care, as long as she didn't have to see it again. She sighed deeply, standing staring until Bond gently led her away.  
  
On the deck, it was only too obvious how much the ship was tilting, the deck was at an awful angle beneath their feet, and the two agents made their awkward way across the slippery slope. Beneath them, the ocean raged slate grey, crashing high against the sinking ship, white foam spraying high in the air only to be whipped away by an icy wind. Ashleigh stared around her, arms wrapped round herself to try and keep the chill away.  
  
'Listen to me,' Bond shouted over the wind. 'Listen to me, do exactly as I say!'  
  
She nodded, watching in a dazed manner as he yanked the casing off a large container. Inside was what looked to be a heavy, thick rucksack. Bond grabbed it, and holding it close to his chest, pulled her closer to him so he could shout in her ear.  
  
'We're going to have to jump. On my count, we'll both jump into the sea. Do not dive! Whatever you do, do not dive, Ashleigh, do you understand what I'm saying? If you dive, you'll go too deep, and the ship will pull you under! You'll get dragged down by the ship. Jump out as far as you can, but try and slow your descent before you hit the water. Try and stop yourself going too deep, and as soon as you hit the water, start swimming! Swim as fast, and as hard as you can away from the ship. Ashleigh!'  
  
He shook her hard, her dark eyes were slipping in and out of focus, and she was trembling from more than just cold. Shock, he realised, she was going into shock. 'Do you understand what I'm saying, do you know what you have to do.'  
  
She nodded. 'Jump, don't dive,' she repeated in a dull monotone. 'Start swimming. I know.'  
  
'Good! Are you ready? Kain, are you ready?'  
  
'Yes, sir,' she mumbled.  
  
He pushed her forwards towards the railing, she clambered over, until her feet found the narrow ledge high above the roaring waves. Even in her somewhat unsteady state, she was painfully aware that she was at a great height, and she wasn't very good at heights. Her hands gripped the bar behind her until her knuckles turned white.  
  
Bond was beside her, his solid bulk a comforting presence. 'On my count,' he shouted.  
  
'Understood!' The ship lurched.  
  
'Three, two one, JUMP!'  
  
An order was an order, and the agent inside Ashleigh obeyed. The wind seemed like it would rip her skin to shreds, she seemed to fall forever, the grey sea rising up closer to her until she thought that it wasn't actually water at all, but solid concrete beneath her rising up to crush her.  
  
At the last moment, she threw her arms wide, and kicked her legs frantically, trying to slow herself down, a final chance for a lungful of air, and she crashed beneath the surface of ocean.  
  
The cold bit into her skin immediately, as sharp as broken glass, the water gripped her, trying to drag her down into its darkest depths, but she flung her arms out, lashing out in a brutal front crawl, dragging herself forwards, away from the ship, just keep swimming.  
  
There was no rhythm to her swimming, no dignity, catching a breath whenever her head broke above the waves, she was fighting the waves, fighting the pull of the sinking ship, her arm burning each time she dragged it over her head until she could only flap helplessly at the water, using her left hand to pull herself through the water.  
  
A hand reached out, gently gripping her right wrist, and she bumped up against thick rubber.  
  
'Up you get,' she heard James say through the water sloshing about her ears. He was pulling her over the side; she kicked upwards until she could fall forwards onto a distinctly wobbly surface. A blanket was being wrapped around her shoulders.  
  
Collapsing back against the side, Bond, a blanket casually draped around him, quickly dragged his watch from wrist, his fingers activating the small tracking device located inside the small package of machinery. Now it was just a matter of floating upon the high sea until the navy picked them up. A sense of satisfaction swept through him.  
  
A small sob disturbed his moment of jubilation.  
  
Ashleigh sat opposite him, desperately rubbing at the blood on her hands. Her shaking had increased tenfold, and she suddenly looked painfully young. As she pitched forward, hands buried against her eyes, a cry catching in her throat, he pulled her into a tight embrace as for the first time in years, Ashleigh Kain broke down.  
  
The world was safe. The mission had been a surprising success. In a short while, she would be safe among the bosom of MI6 and able to crack open the proverbial champagne. Yet Ashleigh felt no triumph, no sense of victory at the part she had played in the success. People had died for Hermes, the canister that rested awkwardly against her thigh, she herself had killed. Blood still ran down her arm, soaking wet she huddled into the blanket, and despite her godfather's tentative embrace, she realised she had never felt so alone in her life.  
  
She sobbed. 


	33. Chapter Thirty One

Twelve hours earlier, one of the Navy crafts sent out by M had picked up a small persistent signal, and located the two agents. Exhausted, soaked through, bloodstained, but ultimately alive, Ashleigh had found herself being hauled onto the craft, supported by various crew members and immediately being wrapped in several thick, warm, welcoming blankets.  
  
Refusing to be seen by the ship's doctor, and pleading exhaustion, she had simply requested permission to sleep and had been escorted to a small cabin. Throwing herself onto the small hard cot, she passed into a deep sleep. No dreams came to torment her, much to her subconscious relief, instead leaving her to slide further into the pit of emptiness that surrounded her. She no longer cared. She wanted to sleep. If she never woke up, what exactly would she have lost?  
  
Waking with a start from a memory she couldn't quite grasp, her immediate impression was of being in a small metal coffin. Her head pounded with claustrophobia, and she jerked upright fumbling for a light. Her watch was gone, but a small luminous clock informed her that she had been asleep for over eleven hours.  
  
Wrapped in a heavy waterproof, Navy jacket, she made her way on deck, grateful for her solitude. She found a quiet area where she could just lean against the railing and watch the waves. Sailors hurried about their business, a few throwing her curious glances, but none quite daring to interrupt her.  
  
Her shoulders slumped. No feelings of elation swamped her. The victory still remained as hollow as it had been as she had cried in James's arms. She had once heard someone say that everyone needed something to fight for. Who had it been? She couldn't remember and she didn't care, it was all crap. In the end, you fought for your own life, and you thanked yourself if you somehow managed to survive, because who else would? All the people who's lives she had just saved? They didn't even know the threat they were under in the first place.  
  
When she got onto dry land, she would receive her pat on the back with one hand, while the other forced her next set of orders upon her. And the whole process would start again.  
  
And perhaps he was right. Perhaps she would keep doing this until she died in the process. She no longer cared. Ashleigh Kain fought for Ashleigh Kain from this point onwards.  
  
'Reliving the mission, Agent Kain?' a voice asked from her side.  
  
'I'm sorry?' she started, holding back the strands of hair that whipped her face so she could actually see the speaker.  
  
'You were either reliving the mission, or contemplating throwing yourself in. And I would have thought that one dip in that frozen ocean was enough for anyone.'  
  
'Well, yes,' she muttered, furious that someone had dared to interrupt her self pity. She glared at him, but was rather taken back by the warm smile on his face.  
  
Midshipman Mathew Rhys nodded at the agent he had helped to pull from the water earlier, and held out a plastic cup of coffee to her.  
  
'Vile tasting,' he said, indicating the thick, steaming brown liquid, 'But it's hot.'  
  
'Thank you.'  
  
He waited for her to take a sip, she glanced doubtfully at the murky coffee. 'You're supposed to be resting, Agent Kain.'  
  
She grimaced at the cloying bitter taste as she sipped, she didn't actually like coffee, vile tasting or not, but she appreciated the warmth that spread through her. She began to thaw slightly. 'I needed some fresh air.'  
  
Reluctant to involve herself in a conversation, she turned back to the ocean, hoping the officer would take the hint.  
  
'I'll apologise in advance for pushing unwanted advice upon you, but you were exposed for a quite a while. Not to mention the state of your arm when you arrived. It might be an idea to check in with the ship's doctor.  
  
Ashleigh flushed. Underneath her jacket she had crudely tied her arm up with a strip of her torn vest, having attempted to clean it up as best as she could. It now felt raw and moving it was painful, but it wasn't as bad as she had first thought, the blade had at least gone through cleanly.  
  
'Cat fight?' he asked, gesturing to the parallel scratches along her cheek. Subconsciously her hand flew to them, feeling the coarse texture of dried blood there. She was bruised, battered and chilled to the bone, but she wasn't yet ready to face a doctor.  
  
'You could say that,' she muttered. She formed her features into what she hoped was an apologetic smile. 'Look, I know and you know that the moment I step onto dry land I'm going to be forced to see a doctor, and I promise I'll go then, but... not just yet...'  
  
The stubbornness was clear on her face, but she also seemed distressed behind the dark eyes. He decided to drop the matter. He leant on the railings next to her, standing in companionable silence.  
  
'Amazing, isn't it?'  
  
'What?'  
  
'The way secrecy dictates our lives.'  
  
She glanced at him curiously. He was tall, well built, with close cropped dark hair and smiling blue eyes. He reminded her of what she thought a younger James would look like. Thawing slightly at his easy manner, she relaxed next to him, perhaps he did understand an element of what she was going through.  
  
'I suppose there are too many aspects of our jobs that we can't talk about. Not to family, friends, the people that are supposed to be closest to us, until eventually we end up having to lie to them.'  
  
'Not all the time,' he said guardedly, 'But yes. There sometimes seems to be far too many secrets.'  
  
They continued to stare at the water.  
  
'Why do we do it?' he asked. 'Why do we risk our own lives, so that other's may live in a safe world?'  
  
It was a rhetorical question, thrown out into the wind without ever expecting an answer.  
  
'Do you know what I think it is?' Ashleigh spoke so softly, at first Rhys wasn't sure she had spoken. 'Arrogance. Sheer arrogance. That deep down inside we do it because we believe that only we can, there is something that makes us special, makes us believe that only we can save the world. It all boils down to pride and arrogance and in the end it becomes a drug, an addiction, the thrill of the mission, the adrenaline of success and the praise we will receive, and we do it again and again for the same buzz, all the time becoming more arrogant with each victory. The only reason we don't become like the other side, whoever the enemy may be this time, is because we believe that there is still some good in this world, and that it's worth fighting for. But take that belief away, and we're no better than them.'  
  
She paused, remembering how tempted she had been to take Hermes for herself. 'And it would be far too easy to cross that line.'  
  
Mathews looked up at her, saw the whitened knuckles gripping the rail.  
  
'Do you really believe that?'  
  
'I really wish I didn't,' Ashleigh bit her lip. 'But right now I do.' 


	34. Chapter Thirty Two

The hot water was sweet relief after too many days spent shivering, finding herself unable to get warm. She reached out and turned the handle of the shower violently, turning the water as hot as it would go, until the scalding water plastered her hair to her head and penetrated the weary muscles of her aching body.  
  
It was over.  
  
It was over.  
  
The thought repeated itself endlessly, until finally it fell into a rhythm with her heart. She concentrated on nothing, one hand holding her upright against the endless onslaught of the boiling water. Her skin turned pink, her breathing shallow, but still she could not warm up. It seemed the cold was here to stay.  
  
Three days of debriefing had taken their toll on Ashleigh, three days of endless sessions with M, and James, and other high ranking personnel, all who had little or no idea of just how close they had come to being wiped out. Questions had been fired from all angles, had the correct prescribed procedures been followed through, had orders been obeyed? Tired, her head slumping further towards the table with every question, Ashleigh had struggled to answer coherently, or at least to give an answer that could be deemed satisfactory. Every so often she would catch a glimpse of James, but the 00 agent had refused to meet her eyes, instead, fresh and composed he had replied in a rational and precise tone, giving thorough, detailed answers that left little room for nitpicking. It was as if he was bored of the whole thing already, whereas Ashleigh could think of nothing else. Had she been right to do what she did? Not only were her actions under scrutiny from her superiors, they were also under attack from herself.  
  
Of course, the Janus situation had arisen. Slumped in her seat, fighting back the waves of humiliation that had crashed over her, she had answered as honestly as she could, but thankfully M had intervened. The situation had been orchestrated by M herself, the older woman had said, quickly on the defensive, and that his co-operation had been a success rather than the failure that the men around the table were willing to declare. Agent Kain had merely been working under M's order's to gain an element of Janus's trust. The steely eyes of the head of MI6 staring around the table had been enough to deter any further questioning. Ashleigh knew she should be grateful to the older woman for getting her out of a tight spot, but part of her was furious that her role with Alec had been so casually dismissed. It had been her that had fought to win over Alec, if she hadn't have been involved, then the co-operation that M had apparently coaxed out of the 'reformed' Janus would never have happened.  
  
Curiously she had glanced at James during this discussion of his nemesis, but James had seemed strangely unaffected, listening to the proceedings with a cool detachment, hardly interested. But Ashleigh thought she knew better, wondered if the sudden tightening of his shoulders were caused by the mere mention of Janus, or if he was just stiff after the mission. As if sensing her analytical dissection of his actions, he visibly relaxed, stretching out, and as he caught her eye, rather deliberately, offering a small, fake smile.  
  
It always came back to him, didn't it? Ashleigh thought as she showered. No matter where her thoughts had led her, they always came back to him, always to the scarred, mysterious man that had so easily wrapped her round his little finger. She had been his pawn in a larger game he was playing, using her to get to James, to get to M, to take revenge on the organisation that had foiled him, and getting her to do his dirty work.  
  
She had killed for him. He had played on her sense of honour, begged her to do what he couldn't do, but that had been a lie hadn't it? If he had truly wanted to, couldn't he have taken out Deronda and Elliot? But Ashleigh had had more of an opportunity. Had he intended to send her out just so she could kill them for him? Or had his reasons been more honourable than that, a genuine desire to aid her and her mission?  
  
She would never know. Instead, she found herself reliving the moment of Lucinda's death over and over again, the horrible feeling of resistance as the knife had plunged into the other woman's throat, the startled look in the china blue eyes, the sudden slump as life left the body, and only Ashleigh held that body upright. Almost clinically detached at the time, Ashleigh found she was plagued by the horror of the moment, and the knowledge that she had killed so easily. Blood had gushed down her, staining her skin vividly, mingling with her own. Of course, she had killed before, but usually with a gun, a simple aim, a flicker of pressure upon a trigger, and a figure had slumped unmoving to the floor. How could the two ever be possibly connected? But this time, blame was unmovable, placed entirely upon her shoulders, twisting into her very being, eating away at her core. She had seen life extinguished in those eyes, haunting eyes, and she had been the cause. She had seen the pain, and been marked by the blood.  
  
Drenched, saturated, soaked, smothered by blood, a thick, mercury like liquid that had rolled across her skin, hot and burning, a scorching contrast to the icy water that had surrounded them.  
  
Subconsciously, she rubbed at the sopping bandage that was wrapped round her upper arm. She had been forced to see the doctor as she had predicted, and the wound closed with a few stitches that would eventually dissolve. It could have been so much worse, she shivered, she knew she had gotten off lightly. James had suffered cuts and bruises, but how close they had come to death... She shook her head, refusing to think such morbid thoughts.  
  
After all, it was their job. All that just to save the world; what were their lives worth in comparison to the safety and continued security of the human race? All for Hermes, the canisters had been removed from her almost immediately, and for a moment, Ashleigh had found herself ready to snatch them back. She had fought so hard to retrieve them, they were hers, and hers alone. The possessiveness that had swamped her had scared her, but the cold fury that she had fought and killed for those small vials had taken over her, and she had almost lost it at they were taken away. But the obedient agent had acquiesced, and they had mysteriously vanished away. All the consignments of the virus that had been dotted around the world had been retrieved and no doubt destroyed.  
  
But still... somewhere those two vials would sit, somewhere deep within an underground vault perhaps, just waiting, waiting for their moment. It would be a foolish country indeed that would throw away such power. They were all that remained of such a weapon; there was no way that the only country that held Hermes would be willing to destroy it.  
  
And so it had all come to an end. Finally, M had dismissed her, and now Ashleigh found herself back in the same hotel room she had occupied for far too long, letting the hot water of the shower take away her troubles. Under the scalding deluge, she tried to forget, tried to push her thoughts far, far away.  
  
But she couldn't. It had been three, no, four days now since she had seen him. Across her knuckles purple bruises were slowly fading to a sickly yellowish green. She had hit him hard, she had to admit that, examining the still tender marks, but how satisfying it had been to crash her fist into that smug, arrogant, smirking scarred face.  
  
The same face that had been flickering at the corners of her mind, constantly at the edge of her thoughts. Awake or asleep, he dominated her, her very senses rebelled against her until she could almost feel his touch on her bare skin, or breathe in the cloying scent of his cologne...  
  
Her hand slapped hard against the tiled wall of her shower, sending droplets of cooling water splattering onto her hot skin. She winced in pain, seeing the pale palm of her hand quickly reddening at the sudden harsh contact, and with a sigh, viciously turned the water off.  
  
She had made her decision. And this time, she'd show him.  
  
*  
  
The darkness was almost complete outside, broken only by the dim light of the lamps that lined the long drive way. His reflection obscured most of the view outside, and he tried to ignore the reflection within the glass, instead staring out to where he knew the lake sat. In the dense blackness, the trees that surrounded the water were barely distinguishable from the night sky.  
  
'Enter,' he snarled as there was a timid knock on the door.  
  
'We've been prepped and cleared for take off, sir, so as soon as you're ready...' the nervous voice tailed off.  
  
His fingers trailed the stubble that lined his strong jaw, barely feeling the raised texture on the right side of his face. Ready? Was he ready? As he'd ever be, he supposed.  
  
'Five minutes.'  
  
'Yes, sir.'  
  
The door clicked shut, and Alec glanced around the dark room. It was oppressive, almost claustrophobic in its darkness, but he liked it. He found peace here.  
  
He picked up the phone from where it sat on the desk. He only had five minutes.  
  
*  
  
She slid across the room, one hand holding the towel tightly around her body, her dark hair dripping water onto her bare shoulders. The room was cold, after the heat of the shower, and goose bumps rose on her skin.  
  
It was too easy to slide her hand into the pocket of her overcoat, and remove the small silver phone. She glanced in an irritating manner at her coat, the black wool slowly gathering white fluff as it lay thrown across the back of a chair, discarded and forgotten during the rush of the last week. Her hands shook as she flipped the phone over.  
  
There was a click of connection, then silence. Ashleigh frowned. Something wasn't right here.  
  
A piercing tone beeped in her ear before a polite, vaguely apologetic voice told her in Russian that the number didn't exist.  
  
Ashleigh took a deep breath. She tried again. The same message.  
  
Her howl of rage echoed through the building as she threw the phone across the room.  
  
*  
  
Slowly, Alec placed his head in his hands and sighed. The end had arrived once more, it was time to go, to vanish into the night for another time. His back ached as he stood. Perhaps he was getting weak, he reflected morosely.  
  
A single file sat on the desk in front of him, bound in leather. Leave it, he ordered himself, walk away and leave it, it means nothing to you anymore.  
  
He made it to the door before he turned back and snatched it up.  
  
Weaknesses.  
  
*  
  
The car had remained in the underground car park for the entire time Ashleigh had been away. It was only as she found the car keys as she dressed, that she even remembered about it. Still, it was convenient now.  
  
Sliding in, she felt a brief flicker of fear as recalled the accident, but somehow that had faded in the light of the dangers she had survived since. Turning the key, the engine burst into life. For a moment her hand hovered over the gear stick, unsure.  
  
No going back now.  
  
Into first, and with a roar, she sped off into the night.  
  
*  
  
There was a faint hint of a satisfied smirk on Alec's face as he walked towards the helicopter. Blacker than the night, it reflected the flashing lights in its rounded belly, above the beetle like body; the rotor blades moved so fast they blurred into an almost solid circle. The engine was almost deafeningly loud at this close proximity.  
  
The gusts from the rotors blew his overcoat back, as he stalked to the door, clambering in, refusing the help from a faceless henchman. He had to get the hell away from here.  
  
Minutes later, there was a shuddering sense of weightlessness as the copter took off. His home, or at the least the place where he had lived in relative peace for the past few years was disappearing before his eyes as they rose higher. He tore his gaze from the window, and glanced down.  
  
His fingers rested lightly on the file in front of him.  
  
He would not look.  
  
*  
  
She drove on instinct, following a vague memory of roads she had been down before, seemingly a life time ago. She had to get there; somehow, there was no other choice.  
  
It was so dark on the quiet country roads; she couldn't remember the last time the night sky had been so overcast. Few stars penetrated the thick cloud cover.  
  
Finally, the roads began to seem familiar, finally, she thought she knew she was close. Her foot pressed harder on the accelerator, the car surged forward, and she knew she was nearly there.  
  
The long, solid wall lining the road heralded the beginning of Alec's estate, and she let out a small cry of triumph. The car skidded to a halt in front of the high metal gates, and skidding on the wet drive, she threw herself out of the car and around the front to the gates. The clicking of her heels echoed into the lonely night.  
  
There was no sign of life. The house was in darkness. Even the lights of the drive had been turned off. Apart from the low purr of the ticking over engine, there was nothing but an eerie silence.  
  
Fighting back a wave of panic, she stepped back from the gates, there was no intercom, no way of getting inside the grounds. There was no point in attempting to clamber over the high pointed gates, or even the wall where broken glass caught the light of the car's headlights. She rattled the bars of the gates, they were definitely locked.  
  
'Alec!' she shouted futilely, 'Alec!'  
  
Her voice echoed mockingly back. She swore under her breath and kicked the gate hard enough to hurt her foot.  
  
He was gone. There was no doubting how he felt.  
  
She was freezing, the night air biting into her, and she felt herself begin to shiver again. She rested her head against the cold metal of the gates, and closed her eyes.  
  
'I thought you wanted me,' she whispered.  
  
It was getting colder, but still she stood there. Finally, her shoulders slumped, and she turned back to the car.  
  
*  
  
How easy it was to peel open the soft leather file, how easy it was to separate the thin, glossy paper inside, and to simply slide it out.  
  
Weaknesses. Weaknesses, everyone had them.  
  
He should have killed her. The old Alec would never have thought twice about it, a cruel, stark warning to all those that crossed him, a warning to Bond. But even the old Alec had had a weakness for a pretty face. He would have bedded her, and then killed her. Much tidier, much less hassle than the mess this new Alec was creating. He couldn't shake this pretty face out of his mind.  
  
Dark hair, dark eyes.  
  
A decent right hook.  
  
He thought felt his cheekbone where she had hit him, it was still tender, the bruising only just beginning to fade. She was stronger than she looked, both mentally and physically. He had been foolish to think that he could change the rules at the last minute, and he had paid the price for that foolishness. What did it matter? - She had been going to her death and the cold lonely plaque on MI6's memorial wall.  
  
Yet, still. She had wormed her way into his consciousness, and tempted him with her dark eyes, and desire for him. There was innocence to her, the same innocence that her father had had, the same belief that the good would eventually win out. He had called it a weakness in her, and in David, but in all honesty, he admired the sentiment. Faith, he supposed it was a form of faith. And faith was something that continued to elude him.  
  
He slid the photo out. After he had let her go after the first night, he had sent a man after her, just to watch, to observe. The photograph had been taken as she had left the hotel one morning, the wind had caught her short hair, whipping across her face, irritated, she had brought a hand up to push it out of the way. On reflection, she didn't look her best, she was scowling, and looked strangely as if she believed the entire world was out to get her. It was enough though, enough to remind him of the way her eyes would deepen as she looked at him, the way she would press her body against him. Closing his eyes he was overwhelmed by a sudden memory of her in his bed, her pale skin silver in the moonlight, her gentle laughter as he stroked the curve of her stomach, before trapping his mouth with hers, kissing him until he could no longer catch his breath.  
  
It had been too long since a woman had had this effect on him. It was dangerous, far too dangerous.  
  
Regaining control over his feelings, he stuffed the photograph back into the file. She was in the past. And the past was another country.  
  
Idly he stared out the window. They were still flying quite low, but there was little visible outside. As they banked round, a flash of light caught his attention outside. Headlights cut through the darkness as a single car headed back towards the city to the north. He watched as they swept above it, and he envied the simple life of the driver within.  
  
A new future awaited him. One where he would be alone.  
  
He tried not to let the thought of that bother him too much. Things were always simpler when you were alone.  
  
*  
  
She had been alone before, she could be alone again.  
  
Somehow, that didn't comfort Ashleigh much.  
  
Her hands tightened on the wheel as the needle of the speedometer crept sharply up. She stared fixedly at the road ahead, refusing to think about what had just happened.  
  
The last time she had driven back to St. Petersburg from Alec's she had never made it. Instead her journey had been one into blackness. How easy would it be to simply drive off the road now? A simple jerk of the wheel and she would descend into blackness once more, only this time, she wouldn't wake up. It had been almost painless last time, it would be this time.  
  
'Stop it!' she howled, shaking the steering wheel.  
  
She couldn't think like that. She wouldn't come through everything she had only to die in some pathetic accident caused in a moment of self loathing.  
  
'Don't give him the bloody satisfaction, Kain,' she muttered to herself.  
  
This was over now. She had tried. He had rejected her, and now, she had to face that. She would be leaving soon. Getting away from this country where there had been nothing but pain.  
  
Soon.  
  
Glancing up, she saw the brilliant red, green and white lights of a helicopter cut through the sky. There was something strangely beautiful about the dark shape above her, and she stared, fascinated by it. For a brief moment it hovered over her, and then was gone, a retreating shape in her rear view mirror.  
  
If only she could escape as easily.  
  
St. Petersburg loomed in front of her. She would be gone soon. One more night. Then home. 


	35. Chapter Thirty Three

The psychiatrist was an archetypal representation of his profession. With his weak, blurry eyes behind thick glasses, and a straggly thin beard attempting to cover his rather undeveloped jaw, he was the last person Ashleigh felt like opening up to. Instead she watched fascinated as his pen travelled to his mouth once more, which opened willingly to receive its biro offering, revealing slightly yellowing teeth, and a very pink fleshy tongue.  
  
'So, Agent Kain,' the biro was removed from the mouth once more, leaving a long trail of saliva between his rubbery lip and the tip of the pen. The fragile silvery stream broke, and fell, settling somewhere unseen on the dark suit jacket. Ashleigh shuddered. 'I understand this was a very difficult assignment for you.'  
  
'I suppose so.' She shifted on the deliberately uncomfortable chair. It was the last place she wanted to be. Called into this mission against her wishes, she was preparing herself to be deliberately uncooperative.  
  
In went the pen again. He spoke around it, causing his already whiny voice to become muffled. 'Would you care to elaborate upon that?'  
  
'In what way exactly?'  
  
'Well, tell me how you feel the assignment went for you? What do you feel you achieved from this particular assignment?' He was speaking as if he were explaining matters to a slightly slow child.  
  
'I – I'm not sure. Obviously, it was successful, surely that is all that matters?'  
  
'If you think so, Agent Kain.'  
  
The questioning continued in this painful manner. Ashleigh had dealt with these sessions for as long as she had been a member of MI6. There was only one way to get through them, answering the questions as quickly and as briefly as possible, before getting the hell out of there. They covered the usual questions, her childhood, her parents' deaths while she was still young, ('Yes, I believe I was rather upset, my parents were both dead.') and her suitability for 00 status. She answered them all with a practised tongue, and watched impatiently as he jotted down notes on the omnipresent clipboard.  
  
Ashleigh frowned, and glanced at the long mirror that lined one side of the wall. She had an uneasy feeling about it. Outside this room, the temporary HQ set up by MI6 was mysteriously disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. Ashleigh wondered if there was another team of psychiatrists sitting on the other side of the mirrored glass. She resisted the urge to glare at them.  
  
*  
  
On the other side of the glass, M watched as one of her youngest agents was interrogated. She glanced at the tall man standing next to her, watching with cold eyes.  
  
'Tell me, Bond, how did she really do?' M said briskly, folding her arms. It had been the question she hadn't wanted to ask for some time.  
  
'She was good,' Bond admitted grudgingly. 'She was coolheaded when she needed to be, and she seems to be quite professional.'  
  
Professional in the sense that she knew what she was doing when it came to the rules, that her training has certainly been completed to a high level. But on the other hand...  
  
M nodded slowly. She wanted James's guidance, but whether she followed it or not was another matter. 'In your professional opinion, could she ever make 00 status?'  
  
James paused, and an almost guilty look flashed across his handsome features. 'No. She's far too emotional, and too vulnerable to outside influences.'  
  
The dark look that crossed Bond's face left M in no doubt who exactly he meant. The old resentment would always be there, burning beneath the surface. 'I seem to remember a few 'outside influences' crossing your path once or twice, 007,' she said with a wry smile, immediately lightening the situation dragging it away from the thoughts of scarred men.  
  
James conceded the point graciously. 'She's too young, and she gets too involved. It'll destroy her.'  
  
M's head shot up. Once more, she suspected that Bond wasn't entirely referring to Ashleigh's suitability for promotion. Silently, she turned back to the glass, waiting for the next question.  
  
* There had been rather a long pause. Ashleigh felt the palms of her hands dampen with sweat. There was something almost predatory in the psychiatrist's face, and Ashleigh sensed an attack coming. She tensed.  
  
'Tell me about your relationship with the man they call 'Janus'. I understand it was of a sexual nature.'  
  
Ashleigh had been expecting something like this, but she hadn't expected it to be so blunt. She stared coldly at him. 'What?'  
  
'Your sexual relationship with Janus, or I believe you know him by his real name, Alec Trevelyan.'  
  
'That is none of your business.' How easy it was to sum it up, how easy to make it sound so trivial when in fact she felt as if she'd been thumped in the stomach over and over again.  
  
'I only ask the questions I've been told to ask, Agent Kain, so in your own time, please.'  
  
Ashleigh's eyes narrowed. She could sense M's hand in this. Rather than confront Ashleigh herself, M had gone through the official channels, and orchestrated this analysis. Ashleigh fumed. 'I really don't see how this is relevant.'  
  
'As I said before, Agent Kain, I just ask the questions your superiors wish to know the answers to.'  
  
'My relationship with Janus is not important. Or rather, was not important. And I'm not prepared to talk about it.'  
  
'So there was a relationship?'  
  
Ashleigh sighed, and glanced back at the glass once more. Perhaps it would be easier to backtrack and admit defeat. She could just answer quickly, and get this over and done with. 'Yes, there was,' she said shortly, crossing her arms defensively across her chest.  
  
'Of a sexual nature?'  
  
'Yes.' She resisted the urge to revert to sarcasm.  
  
'Were you attracted to Janus?'  
  
She had been. There was no denying it. From the moment she had seen him, she had felt those first flushes of attraction. There was something in his eyes that made her heartbeat faster and her skin tingle at the thought of his touch. She only just managed to control her temper at the stupidity of his question. 'I tend not to bed men I'm not attracted to.'  
  
He ignored the snide comment, but a note was scribbled onto the clipboard with the chewed pen. 'I understand that while Alec Trevelyan was an agent for this organisation, he was a friend of your father's. Your father was...' he flicked the paper over, and Ashleigh scowled. As if he didn't already know. '009 at the time.'  
  
'Yes,' Ashleigh was wary when they started to move into discussing her father. Too many times she had heard the same spiel; too many times her personality had been completely dissected in relation to the 'traumatic' death of her father. And now it was being applied to this. The last thing she needed was a Freudian examination of her childhood again. She felt her hands moving to grip the edge of her chair, but stopped herself, fearing that the nervous action would be read into.  
  
'Is it possible that your attraction for Janus stems from a desire to find a father figure?' The weak blue eyes stared at her. 'And if so, isn't a friend of your late father's the perfect candidate?'  
  
'Oh for God's sake!' Ashleigh suddenly exploded, her frayed temper finally coming to breaking point. 'I'm sorry, but I do not choose my lovers because they fit some subconscious Oedipal criteria to replace my father! I slept with Janus because I wanted to, he's an attractive man, and I was attracted to him enough to go to bed with him. There is no deeper reason than that!'  
  
'Agent Kain, if you will just sit down, we can continue with this,'  
  
Ashleigh found herself breathing heavily and somehow on her feet. It was as if the man had been rubbing salt into open wounds. 'No. I will not discuss this matter with you.'  
  
With that, she turned on her heel, and stormed out of the door.  
  
M and Bond, on the other side of the glass, exchanged a grim look. The door slammed viciously, and at the end of the narrow corridor, a furious looking Ashleigh appeared. She stopped as she saw them both.  
  
'I expected you to be here, sir,' Ashleigh spat, ignoring the fact she was talking to a superior, 'But you,' she scowled at her godfather, 'You are most definitely a surprise. If you were so desperate to know what happened between Alec and I, why didn't you ask? Well? But you should be relieved, because nothing will ever happen again! He's gone; he's made it perfectly clear he doesn't want anything to do with me ever again, so he's gone. Where? I have no idea! Which, I'm guessing, is probably his intention!' Her voice that had been rising suddenly dropped, and a desolate tone crept over her. 'He's gone, James. I hope you're happy. I really hope you're enjoying every moment of my humiliation...'  
  
She suddenly looked very young, and very hurt. With a final defiant toss of her head, a small gesture, she stalked off.  
  
James started after her; not knowing if he was going to comfort her, or rip into her, but going all the same, a hand on his arm stopped him.  
  
'Let her go, Bond,' M said quietly. 'She's in pain, and she needs to be alone.'  
  
Bond nodded, but he couldn't help feeling slightly unnerved by the rather thoughtful expression that had appeared on M's face.  
  
*  
  
Returning to the hotel, Bond discovered from the apologetic concierge that Ashleigh had checked out an hour previously. The news worried James somewhat. Their flight was scheduled for their return to England in only a few hours time. The only logical course of action was to head for the airport, and see if she turned up there. For a second he wondered if she was upset enough to deliberately miss the flight to spite him.  
  
Now seated in the departure lounge, sipping on a mineral water, Bond finally had time to reflect on the mission, and the events since. It had gone well, he had decided. Regrettably there had been causalities, Dmitrov being the notable one. He had been a good man, honest, and hardworking, he hadn't deserved the cruel death he had received. Unfortunately though, these things happened. If he could have prevented the man's death, he would have.  
  
But like Ashleigh, Bond's thoughts kept coming back to one man, and with a sudden jolt of fury, he crashed the glass of mineral water down onto the table on front of him. He was still furious at having been forced into co- operating with such a man as Janus. What had M been thinking? Bond still suspected that Janus hadn't entirely been helping for Queen and Country, there had to be some personal gain for him but Bond wasn't sure what. He refused to think it might have been personal. It was beyond belief that that M could possibly trust him. For too long Bond had tried to push the memories of Goldeneye away, forget the man he once called friend, but for a second time Alec had risen from the grave to mock him. Without Alec, it would have been unlikely that they would have succeeded. And that infuriated James. This silly infatuation of Ashleigh's hadn't helped matters in the least. Alec had known how much it would irritate James, the way he had deliberately flaunted their ... their... what did they have anyway? A few one night stands hardly constituted a relationship. James knew one thing - the sooner they were back in England, the better. She would come to her senses then, and things could go back to some vague sense of normality. He glanced round once more, where the hell was she? If she was trying to make a point, it had been well and truly made.  
  
The doors swept open, and Bond looked up, half expecting to see Ashleigh come through them. Instead he saw a rather attractive red head, with rather startling green eyes. She caught the close scrutiny of the dark Englishman, and gave a shy, but warm smile in return. Bond smirked as she sat nearby, and pointedly crossed her shapely legs. It was the distraction he needed.  
  
Opening up his newspaper, he made sure he glanced frequently in her direction. She really was quite pretty he thought, dainty, delicate, and almost fragile in appearance. She was dressed smartly, but not for business he noted, the novel she was reading was in Russian. He was so focused in trying to analyse her that he didn't notice the woman that stepped up to him. The red head on the other hand took one look at the dark faced brunette that had just arrived and decided to focus her attentions somewhere else.  
  
Bond finally looked up. With neat precision, refusing to show how irked he was, he folded up the newspaper, and put it down carefully. 'You're here then.'  
  
'Don't start, James.' Ashleigh collapsed into the chair next to him, ignoring the ice-cold tone. She looked tired, he noticed with a small pang of guilt, but refused to be moved by it. 'I was hardly going to miss my flight home.'  
  
They sat in silence, until the flight was called, and once boarded, still Ashleigh sat in silence. As the plane leapt from the run way into the grey clouds above, Ashleigh had one final glance at the city below her, the beautiful city she had been so excited about seeing, which had only caused her confusion and pain. There was time for one last look at the way the islands merged into the sea, and then the clouds swallowed the plane up.  
  
*  
  
It wasn't until they were almost ready for landing that Bond risked talking to his goddaughter. A half filled out crossword sat in front of her, but for the last half-hour or so she hadn't attempted any answers, she simply made mindless scribbles and seemed lost in thought. Placing a hand on top of hers, he caught her attention.  
  
'Are you alright?' he asked hesitantly, uncomfortable with the forced intimacy.  
  
She startled slightly; having been deep in thought, but quickly smiled at him. It didn't reach her eyes. 'Of course I am,' she said lightly, her tone revealing nothing.  
  
'What you said earlier,'  
  
She cut him off immediately. 'I'm fine. Really, I'm fine.'  
  
The barrier had come crashing down. Like so many times before, she had retreated into herself, defending herself against getting too close to anything. Or anyone. She sat back into the straight-backed, almost comfortable chair, and refused to let herself think of anything. Russia was in the past. Below her London was waking up to another damp, drizzly morning, commuters hurrying past the bright Christmas decorations that reflected brightly on the slick pavements, the roads already packed solid with early morning traffic, and soon she would be fighting her way among them to get home.  
  
She was home. It was a relief. 


	36. Chapter Thirty Four

A/N: To everyone who has reviewed - a huge thank you, Adri, Daughter of Olorin, and Keeter. Your words mean so much to me.  
  
It's not the end yet. Still a few more chapters to go. Have taken advantage of the fact that I have finished my dissertation (thesis) to just sit and write.   
  
Once more, thank you.  
  
a.  
  
*  
  
The thickness of the smoke was making her eyes water as she crashed blindly through it. She coughed, feeling it creep into her lungs, she threw an arm over her face and hoped she would just get through the smoke, the heat was incredible.   
  
Suddenly the smoke cleared, and she was standing in a clear room.   
  
Facing the raised barrel of a gun.  
  
'No, not you.' Her heart seemed to stop.  
  
There was nothing but coldness in him.  
  
'Please,' she whispered. 'Please don't do this.'  
  
The gun fired, and she was thrown backwards.  
  
The pain was unimaginable.  
  
*  
  
The call had come through during the early hours of the morning. Ashleigh had been waiting for it for nearly twelve hours; she had begun to despair that it would ever happen. But it had, and she knew she had only a short amount of time to get to her destination.   
  
It wasn't what she had expected. The building was an office block on the northern outskirts of the city, and in the early hour of the morning, seemingly deserted. Leaving the safety of her car, she slid along the walls of the building, still shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from the harsh orange streetlights that lined the road. It was just after five am, and she shivered in the cold morning.   
  
The first problem was how she was going to get inside. There was no way she could risk a main exit. Peering around a corner, she found herself facing a narrow alleyway, unguarded, and with a dead end. Half way along was a security camera. Slipping her hand inside her jacket, she found the small canister, and slid along the wall, hoping she was out of sight for the camera. It took only seconds to spray the lens of the camera with a thick black layer of paint. Perfect. Glancing up, she saw the line of narrow windows, just as she had been told. Jumping up, she scrabbled to get a purchase on the narrow sill, digging her toes in between the bricks of the building. The first window revealed a small storeroom, not enough space to get in easily. She also couldn't risk any one walking in looking for cleaning fluids just as she dropped in.  
  
The second window was a much better bet, revealing what looked to be a boiler room. Much better. Shielding her face, she rammed her elbow into the glass. As she had hoped, it cracked; a second blow broke the glass. Picking the glass out of the frame, she clambered through and dropped to the floor below. Immediately she dove into a corner and pulled her gun, listening for any sound that may mean someone heading in her direction.   
  
All was clear. She cracked open the door, noting how quiet it was. That wasn't a good thing. She had to get to the centre of the building, five floors up. Pulling open the door to the service staircase, she started to run up them.  
  
The bullet hit the metal banister next to her. Ducking, she threw herself into the stairs, and waited for the second bullet. None came. Peering up, she only just saw the gunman two flights up before he fired again forcing her back.   
  
She decided to call his bluff, and made a run for it. Reaching the top of the next flight of stairs, she turned and fired blindly, a muffled moan told her she'd hit her target. The gunman was slumped at the top, by the door to the fifth floor. Dropping down next to him, she checked him over for weapons, but he only carried the one gun, and a supply of ammo. She breathed a sigh of relief, and pulled out the small radio she was carrying.  
  
'Delta 5 calling all Delta units,' she hissed into it.  
  
There was a pause, and then a crackle of life. 'Delta 1 receiving you, Delta 5.'  
  
'Delta 5 currently heading to rendezvous point, disabled one marksman.'  
  
'Received. Continue as agreed.'  
  
It had been some time since Ashleigh had been part of this sort of operation, and she was relishing the challenge of working in a team again. Just as she was about to move again, the radio crackled back to life.  
  
'Delta 3 calling all Delta units' even over the crackling radio, the urgency in the voice was clear.   
  
'Delta 5 receiving,' Ashleigh whispered.  
  
'We have a situation here,' the voice was panicked, and female. 'I don't know what to do...'  
  
'Calm down, Delta 3, now tell me, what's happened?'  
  
'Delta 4's been hit.'  
  
'What is your location, Delta 3?'  
  
'Fifth floor, west side of the building.'  
  
'Ok, I'm on my way,'  
  
'Please hurry!' there was a scream down the radio. 'They're shooting again!'  
  
This wasn't good, Ashleigh thought with a cold trickle of sweat trickling down her back. At least she had come in on the west side of the building, she couldn't be too far away. Dashing out of the room, she found herself in a long corridor.   
  
There seemed to be hundreds of doors. But which was the right one?   
  
More shoots were being fired, and dangerously close. Well at least she knew that she was nearing her target. Looking down at the floor, she suddenly saw a trail of blood leading under a door. Hearing footsteps approaching she decided to risk it and stormed through the door.  
  
Seconds later she was flat on her back as a curly haired blonde pointed her gun at her with a trembling hand.   
  
'Don't move!' the blonde cried, in a rather crisp accent.   
  
'It's alright,' Ashleigh whispered, 'It's alright, I'm with you, I'm Delta 5.'  
  
'Really?' The blonde trembled.  
  
'Really,' Ashleigh agreed gently. She recognised the young woman, a relatively new agent, part of this year's intake. She was very, very young, and even more, she was very frightened. 'You're Delta 3 aren't you?'  
  
The blonde nodded, and slowly put her weapon down. Ashleigh finally had a chance to look round. Huddled in the corner, was a young, red haired man who looked more suited to working in the city than as a secret agent. His face was a grimace of pain, and blood was pouring from a gash in his leg.  
  
'Delta 4?' Ashleigh asked briskly, rapidly realising she was the senior agent in the situation. The man nodded. 'What happened?'  
  
'Ambushed when we got to this floor. Took out one man, but was shot in the leg. Think bullet went through, it's only a flesh wound.'  
  
Ashleigh crouched by him, and gently examined his thigh. 'Think you're ok to walk? If we help?'  
  
'Should be. Might hold you up a bit.'  
  
'Not a problem,' Ashleigh reassured him. 'Delta 3, get on the radio, try and contact Delta 1 or 2, and inform them of our situation. They need to know.'  
  
The blonde nodded, and grabbed the radio.  
  
'Did you do this tourniquet?' Ashleigh asked, finding a strip of material tied round Delta 4's thigh. The blonde nodded. 'Good work,' she said with a smile, remembering the team lessons she had learnt over the years, encourage your team, highlight the positive rather than the negative. Unused to being the leader in this sort of situation, she was floundering trying to find her footing.   
  
Delta 3 finished on the radio.   
  
'What did he say?' Ashleigh asked.  
  
'We're to make our way to the centre of the building as planned.'  
  
Delta 3 paused. And then her lip began to tremble. 'I'm not going back out there!' she cried. 'I am not going back out there so I can be shot!'  
  
'They're not going to shoot you,' Ashleigh tried to reassure her, but the blonde Delta 3 started shaking.   
  
'They've shot Mark!' she sobbed, pointing at Delta 4.   
  
'Which is why we need to get him out of here. Why we need to get all of us out of here safely.' Ashleigh grabbed her shoulders, and shook the blonde. 'I am not going to carry you as well as Mark! We have an injured man here, we need to get him out, and you will pull yourself together, and help! There are more lives than yours at stake here!'  
  
The blonde glared up at Ashleigh, and Ashleigh took a sudden step backwards, recalling James's words to her during the last mission outside the research compound. He had told her to pull herself together, and get on with the mission. Much as she now told the blonde. She knew her name, had seen her in the hallowed halls of MI6, a pretty, delicate looking thing, what was her name? She was finding it hard to think.  
  
'Sophie, Sophie, listen to me, ok?' Ashleigh tilted the woman's chin up so she could look into her green eyes. 'You'll be ok, remember, you're trained to do this. This is nothing. Follow the procedures, follow the rules, and all will be ok.'  
  
'Alright,' Sophie seemed to square herself up, and Ashleigh felt relief flood through her, the blonde was obviously stronger than she looked.  
  
'Good. Now help me to get Mark up.'  
  
'What's your name?' Sophie asked quickly.  
  
Ashleigh paused.  
  
'I know it's not normal procedure,' Sophie added quickly, 'but as you know mine and Mark's.'  
  
Ashleigh nodded and conceded. 'Ashleigh. Now give me a hand.'  
  
The two women hoisted Mark up. He moaned, but went willingly. Making sure Sophie had a good grip on Mark, and Mark could use the door frame for support if needs be, Ashleigh slowly opened the door, and peered through. 'Give me a minute,' Ashleigh said quietly and slid out.   
  
She crept along the corridor, then paused, hearing voices.  
  
A figure appeared at the end of the corridor. Ashleigh froze.   
  
'Who's there?' the man called. It was clear he had some sort of automatic weapon.   
  
'Who wants to know?' Ashleigh called back, knowing the man couldn't see her clearly.   
  
'Who are you?' the man shouted, squinting into the dim corridor. He raised his weapon...  
  
The shot was terribly loud, Ashleigh cringed, throwing her hands over her ears and ducking. As the sound died away, Ashleigh saw the figure at the end of the corridor crumple to the floor. Another man stepped into the view, and Ashleigh breathed a huge sigh of relief.  
  
'Delta 5, I presume?' a gentle mocking voice drifted down the corridor, as a tall, broad shouldered man walked towards her, gun swinging almost casually from his hand.  
  
'You're a sight for sore eyes, Delta 1,' Ashleigh laughed, feeling positive for the first time in ages.   
  
He was indeed. Harry Cohen was a senior ranking agent at MI6, a man in his mid fifties with warm green eyes, thick, sandy blond hair, and a large roman nose. Well spoken, with a rich, honey soaked accent, and a charming manner, he was popular and a good agent. Ashleigh had met him several times before, and always liked the man, she was certainly happy to see him.   
  
'Thought you could use some assistance, Delta 5,' Cohen smiled at the young agent. 'What's your situation?'  
  
'Delta 3 and 4 are with me,' Ashleigh gestured behind her, 'Delta 4 is injured, but we're able to move him. And yours?'  
  
'The terrorists are currently gathered in a large room in the centre of this floor. They have five civilians hostage. I recommend that we head for this room and attempt to disarm the terrorists.'  
  
Ashleigh frowned. 'Surely we should attempt to negotiate for the hostages first...' she put forward.  
  
'Attempts to negotiate have failed, Delta 5,' Cohen snapped. 'We press forward, you will follow my orders.'  
  
Ashleigh paused, shocked by the sudden change in attitude, but Harry Cohen was the senior agent. 'Yes...sir,' she agreed.  
  
A wide grin broke over Harry's face. He hadn't noticed the hesitation in Ashleigh's voice. 'Glad we're agreed. Get the others and follow me.'  
  
Ashleigh turned round, and beckoned the other two agents towards them. Mark was able to move quite freely now, and needed only Sophie's support.  
  
Suddenly, she heard Harry shout. 'Get down! Now!'  
  
As the three of them threw themselves onto the ground, an explosion ripped through the building.   
  
'What the hell was that?' Mark, Delta 4 shouted.  
  
'Bastards have got explosives!' Cohen roared, scrambling to his feet. A huge outpouring of smoke was filling the corridors.  
  
'What now?' Ashleigh asked, as she helped Mark to stand. 'What do we do now?'  
  
'The same as before!' Cohen was already moving. 'Follow me.'  
  
As they fought their way through the smoke, Ashleigh realised they seemed to be heading more and more towards the epicentre of the explosion. The temperature was rising with every step they took, the smoke becoming thicker and thicker.   
  
'Why aren't the sprinkler's coming on?' Sophie asked.  
  
Good question, Ashleigh thought, nor was there the wail of a fire alarm. The enemy had obviously prepared this.  
  
'They must have disabled the emergency system,' Cohen said from where he led.   
  
Ashleigh squinted through the smoke, where was Harry? He had vanished into the thick clouds, and she could no longer make out his reassuring shape. 'We need to move quicker,' she cursed.   
  
Running forward, she sprinted through the open doorway she thought she had seen Harry vanish through.  
  
And stopped.  
  
For a moment, her brain struggled to catch up on the facts. They had broken through into a large room, in the corner, was the five civilian hostages, but Ashleigh didn't see them. She only had eyes for Harry Cohen.  
  
'No,' she whispered. 'Not you.'  
  
There was no warmth in the smile he gave her, instead his thumb moved to the safety of his gun and clicked it off.   
  
'What the hell is going on?'   
  
Ashleigh heard Mark's voice behind her, but didn't dare turn round. Cohen moved so quickly, firing two shots in rapid succession. Ashleigh flinched, knowing that Delta 3 and Delta 4 were dead.   
  
Now the gun turned on her.  
  
'No, please. Please, don't do this,' she whispered.  
  
There was nothing but coldness in his eyes. He fired.  
  
The first shot hit her in the stomach. Her eyes widened in shock. No one had told her it would hurt this much. Already he had fired again, the second and third bullet hitting her high in the chest, flinging her backwards.  
  
She hit the ground hard, and didn't move.  
  
*  
  
'Fuck!' Ashleigh howled.  
  
Sitting up, she fumbled with the front of her jacket until she could remove the bullet proof vest from underneath it. Still swearing, she threw it to the ground next to her, and gripped her head in her hands.  
  
'Oh god,' she moaned.   
  
'Are you alright?' Harry Cohen offered a hand down to her. She eyed it warily, still remembering the coldness in his eyes of moments ago. She took his hand, and let him drag her to her feet.  
  
'I'm fine,' she shrugged. Her chest was sore where the rounds had hit her, the bullets may have been absorbed by the thick vest, but she still ached, and would probably have some bruising coming up in all sorts of interesting colours within hours. She had to change her career to something less dangerous and soon.   
  
Harry nodded, and gestured to the vest. 'Hurts like hell, doesn't it.'  
  
'I've had worse,' Ashleigh muttered.   
  
Behind her, Mark and Sophie were getting to their feet. Sophie still looked shaken, Mark, less so. 'I'm sorry,' she apologised helplessly, knowing she had screwed things up.  
  
'It's alright,' Sophie smiled, but gesture looked unsteady.   
  
'Could have happened to any of us,' Mark said, thawing slightly.  
  
But it didn't, Ashleigh thought darkly. It happened to me. Since she had returned, her work had been sloppy, she knew it, her mind unfocused. The whole purpose of this training mission was to see how well she coped under pressure, rather than finding out half way through a real assignment. Ashleigh had managed to get three people killed, including herself. She had so wanted to prove herself on this occasion, but instead she had failed. She sighed and slumped against the wall.   
  
'Kain,' Cohen called over to her. 'They want to take a look at you now.'  
  
Great, Ashleigh thought banging her head back against the wall as she noticed the white coated doctors milling about on the far side of the room. 'No rest for the wicked,' she muttered.   
  
'Breathe in please, Agent Kain,' the young doctor listened through the stethoscope as Ashleigh obediently inhaled. 'Any tenderness?'  
  
'I've just been shot three times.' Defensively, Ashleigh resorted to sarcasm.  
  
'Just be grateful you were wearing a bullet proof vest then, Kain.'  
  
'Sir,' Ashleigh inwardly cringed as M appeared around the curtain.   
  
'You'll be fine, Agent Kain, some bruising from the impact, and you might feel slightly breathless from the smoke inhalation.' The doctor, noticing M's arrival, hurriedly concluded his examination and made a hasty exit.   
  
M picked up Ashleigh's abandoned vest, and examined the rents in it. 'I don't like using these. I don't like trusting my agents' lives to an oversized piece of wadding.'  
  
'Sir?' Ashleigh wasn't quite sure where this conversation was going. She simply waited for M to berate her.   
  
'I asked for you to be a part of this mission for a reason, Ashleigh,' Ashleigh was thrown by the use of her first name. 'To see how you'd cope.'  
  
'Not very well, it seems,' Ashleigh gestured to the vest. She knew that M would have been able to view the entire sequence of events on hidden cameras. There was no point in trying to hide how badly she had done.  
  
'I disagree. I think you did exactly what I wanted you to do.'  
  
'What you wanted me to do? Sir, I'm afraid I don't understand.'  
  
'Where did you think you went wrong?'  
  
Ashleigh dropped her head. 'I should have questioned Agent Cohen's decision to lead a full on attack. But I didn't.'  
  
'Why not?'  
  
Ashleigh looked up, surprised. 'Agent Cohen is my superior. I've known him since I began my training; I had no reason to question his judgement, sir, no reason to ever think he was working for the enemy.'  
  
'So you trusted Agent Cohen, despite your own misgivings about the situation?'  
  
'Yes, sir.' Ashleigh slumped, waiting for M to attack.  
  
'I've been considering your situation since your return, and I've come to a decision. I'm recommending a leave of absence, for an indefinite period of time.'  
  
'What?' At first Ashleigh wasn't sure she heard right. Her mouth dried, as she fought to protest, 'Sir, no, please. I can get through this, today was nothing, a misjudgement. I know I've not been entirely focused, but I can change that, and I will.'  
  
'I know you will. But this is an order, Kain, not a request.'  
  
'Yes, sir.' She was being punished, she knew she was. There was no point in arguing anymore. 'Is this about what happened in St. Peters-'  
  
M cut her off. 'I know what happened in St. Petersburg. I've also seen how those events have affected you since your return, and that's why I'm recommending this leave.' Her pale blue eyes softened. 'Think of it as an opportunity. Or as a well earned rest. Take the time to consider the important matters at hand. When you return, I'll be willing to discuss your application for 00 status.'  
  
It was the trump card that M needed to convince Ashleigh. A spark of hope flickered in the deep brown eyes of the young woman. 'Are you sure, sir?'  
  
'You're a good agent, Ashleigh, and you'll learn from your mistakes. You trusted Cohen today and he betrayed you, but you will learn.'  
  
'Learn what, sir? That I can't trust anyone?' Ashleigh said bitterly.   
  
'No, I wanted you to trust Cohen, that's why I chose an agent that you knew to lead the team. I encouraged you to trust him, because I wanted you to understand something.'  
  
'Sir?' Confusion was clear on Ashleigh's face.  
  
M stood, and smoothed an invisible crease from her tailored skirt. 'That trust isn't everything, Ashleigh. Remember that.'  
  
With that, the older woman left the room, leaving Ashleigh alone. Suddenly exhausted she stared after M, and wondered why she felt M wasn't exactly referring to that day's events. 


	37. Chapter Thirty Five

A/N: Probably the most personal Ashleigh chapter I am going to write. Hopefully you will learn a little more about her history here. I'm with M – I don't like getting personal with my characters, but this time, I feel I have to. If only to give some basis for the future.  
  
Stick with me. Normal service will be resumed ASAP. I am distinctly nervous of posting this for fear of being lynched.  
  
January dawned grey and damp as December had been. Shaking off its post New Year hangover, London was ready to return to normality. It seemed that every restaurant, bar and club in the city was thriving with a new found energy, filled to the brim with eager locals, despite the fact it was an extremely wet Wednesday evening.  
  
The restaurant Bond had chosen was no exception. Just off the West End of the city, it was discreet, simple, elegant, and a well kept secret among its patrons. However, it was as overcrowded as any other restaurant that night, and Bond found himself waiting for his dining companion surrounded by eating out couples, friends catching up after the long Christmas period, and the odd business meeting taking place over good food. He had just poured himself a glass of crisp white wine, and resigned himself to waiting when there was the hubbub of activity near the front of the restaurant.  
  
Her hair was dripping wet with rain, her skin flushed from the cold wind outside, but despite this, Bond admitted to himself, Ashleigh looked good.  
  
'Sorry,' she apologised as a waiter took her jacket for her, while another held her chair out, 'Traffic, inept taxi drivers, the weather, anything that could go wrong tonight, did.'  
  
'You're here now,' James poured her a large glass of wine. As she sipped, he took the opportunity to study her, she was relaxed and smiling, the dark circles that had appeared under her eyes in Russia had been smoothed out, the tension had left her body, she seemed back to the Ashleigh he had known before. Before...  
  
'What?' she asked curiously.  
  
'Nothing,' he shook his head. 'You're looking well.'  
  
'A compliment? What are you up to?'  
  
'Do I have to be up to something?'  
  
'James, with you, there's always something,' she gently teased him. 'How come you're in London anyway? I thought M had always had work for you.'  
  
'Just returned. Official business of course, very politically sensitive.'  
  
She stared at him, noticing the warm colour of his skin. 'Please don't tell me you got to spend Christmas on a top secret, highly dangerous mission somewhere very hot and glamorous?'  
  
James smirked.  
  
'With an equally glamorous blonde called Henrietta?'  
  
'Georgina actually.'  
  
'Damn you, James,' she laughed.  
  
'And you? How was your Christmas?'  
  
The smile dropped slightly. Reaching out, she fumbled with her wineglass. Christmas was always a painful time for her, and this year had been no exception. Feeling rather despondent, and unwillingly to intrude upon her friends despite their kind invitations, she had found herself throwing a bag into her car on Christmas Eve and driving to the country.  
  
Picking up the menu, Ashleigh seemed to take a great deal of interest in the overblown description of a Caesar salad, before casually remarking, 'Oh, not much really. I spent it with my grandmother.'  
  
It was the truth. Her grandmother had been more than happy, if a little surprised, to see her. But in all honesty, it hadn't been the success, or the distraction she had hoped for. Her grandmother, Catherine Montrose, had quickly sensed that something was troubling her granddaughter, and had made it her own personal mission to discover what exactly it was.  
  
Catherine was in her mid seventies, although with her long red hair only just touched by grey, looked much younger. A self-sufficient artist, who specialised in sculpting, she always painted her nails so that any clay wouldn't show up beneath them. She also believed that no problem couldn't be solved by a long talk, and a bottle of red wine or two. Ashleigh, who found Christmas a painful experience, was even more reluctant to talk than usual, had retreated into her shell, something that had always infuriated Catherine. If only she had been more like her mother, than her father, Catherine had always thought.  
  
But still Ashleigh refused to speak. It was definitely over a man, Catherine decided, but not a work colleague or a friend. Still Ashleigh wouldn't tell her, and finally, with a sigh of relief, Ashleigh had been able to return to the city, leaving Catherine none the wiser.  
  
Perhaps she should have ventured the subject with her grandmother, Ashleigh suddenly thought. Perhaps Catherine would have met Alec years ago, she had known James, why not Alec? But, then, how did she explain everything to her? No, it had been better to remain silent on the subject.  
  
'Sorry?' she suddenly realised James had asked her a question.  
  
'I was wondering how Catherine was?' He had indeed met the woman several times over the years, and admired her forthrightness.  
  
'Still wondering when my handsome godfather is going to whisk her away from it all,' Ashleigh glanced mischievously over the top of the menu. 'She's very taken with you, you know.'  
  
James blanched slightly under his tan, and then laughed. 'Your grandmother will outlive us at this rate.'  
  
It had been the wrong thing to say. He realised his error the moment he said it. Ashleigh's eyes dropped and she bit her lip. Catherine Montrose had already outlived her husband, her daughter, her son in law, and had no idea how close she had come to outliving her granddaughter as well. Reaching out, James squeezed her hand. 'Tactless of me,' he apologised.  
  
Ashleigh forced a smile. 'Don't worry about it,' she said lightly. 'I've had a long time to get used to the situation, James. You don't need to tread gently around it. I know you miss them too.'  
  
James picked up his glass, but didn't drink. A shadow flickered across his face at the memory of his friend.  
  
He had met David Kain early on in his career. Quiet, strong, and a naturally calming presence no matter the situation, David had been one of the few men he could have truly called a friend. Like Alec had been. But while Alec had been the charmer, David had been stoical, solid and settled, a family man that had laughed at Alec and James's playboy ways, before returning to his pretty, red haired wife, and their sweet, dark eyed daughter. The mission had always been important to David, but when it was over, he knew what truly mattered to him. Only David had witnessed the moment when James, filled with grief and guilt over Alec's death, had broken down and wept awkwardly for his friend in the dark, private confines of David's study. Years earlier James had been there for David when Emma had finally lost her long battle against her illness, and David's perfect family had been shattered.  
  
'Yes,' he said finally, 'I miss them.'  
  
He had promised David and Emma, somewhat nervously, that he would protect their daughter. Staring at the young woman in front of him, and knowing what they had been through together, he thought perhaps he might have finally fulfilled that promise.  
  
They fell into an awkward silence, knowing that there were things that could never be spoken of.  
  
'Shall we order?' James asked at the same time as Ashleigh said 'More wine?'  
  
It was a relief to change the subject.  
  
Later that night, having lingered over coffee, James offered to drive Ashleigh home. The drive to the North of the city would give him the opportunity to talk to her without interruption.  
  
As they hit the main road to the north, James finally broached the topic of Ashleigh's absence from MI6.  
  
'How have you been?' he asked, not knowing what sort of reaction he was going to get. To his surprise, Ashleigh laughed.  
  
'It's been wonderful. I've managed to catch up with all the things I've been meaning to do, films I've been meaning to see, books I've been meaning to read. Actually, its been extremely liberating. First time I've had some time to myself in quite a while.'  
  
'So,' he was finding it very awkward to discuss the matter. 'You've been keeping yourself busy then?'  
  
'Sure.' She paused, and in that pause, she let her misery show. 'I am going insane, James. Do you know how long a day is? Do you know how much time you have to think?'  
  
He did. It was the reason why he worked so hard.  
  
'I can't stop thinking what happened out there,' she said quietly, looking down at her hands. 'I need to know if what I did was right.'  
  
'I won't talk about him...'  
  
'This isn't about him!' Ashleigh snapped, losing her temper.  
  
Bond remained stony faced and silent. He could feel her trembling in the seat next to him.  
  
Ashleigh took a deep breath, this wasn't James's fault. She sighed. 'I didn't mean him. I meant Lucinda. Lucinda Elliot. Was I right to kill her?'  
  
'Was there any way to disarm her?'  
  
'No.'  
  
'Would she have hesitated in killing you?'  
  
'Not at all.'  
  
'Then you have your answer.'  
  
'James?'  
  
'Yes?'  
  
'Does it get easier?' she stared at him gauging his every reaction. 'Killing people?'  
  
For a moment he wanted to say no, knowing it was the answer that she wanted to hear. That it still hurt with every life that he took, that he still felt guilt. But the truth was... 'Yes. It does.'  
  
It got easier because he didn't consider them as worthwhile adversaries, most of the lives he took were faceless men, killed because they were an unnecessary nuisance that got in the way of his mission. He couldn't even remember half the men he killed.  
  
She fell silent, digesting this information. 'I had a horrible feeling that it would.'  
  
'Are you sure this is what you want to do with your life?' he asked.  
  
'For the last four years, it's all I've wanted. I want to prove what I can do. That I can do it. Do you know that M is going to consider my application into the programme?'  
  
'Is she?' James's tone was flat. He had heard rumours about it.  
  
'Yeah. It was one of the conditions of my leave. And since I return to work tomorrow...'  
  
'Since when?' James was genuinely shocked. He had heard nothing about this.  
  
'I received a phone call from Moneypenny this evening, just before I left. It appears M has a new assignment for me.'  
  
There was a smug tone to Ashleigh's voice that worried James. 'Has she?'  
  
'Apparently so. It'll be good to get back to things, don't you think?'  
  
She didn't see the dark look that flickered over James's face.  
  
'I need to work,' Ashleigh continued. 'I need a sense of normality in my life. I mean, I know my job isn't the most normal career choice, but still. Throw myself back into duty, into the line of fire again and all that. Stop me thinking about...'  
  
She checked herself, realising how close she had come to admitting her feelings. Suddenly she was frightened by that loss of control. 'I – I mean, thinking about Russia. The mission.'  
  
She cursed silently to herself. She hadn't meant to let that slip out. James had seen straight through her stuttering backtrack, and this time, the look on his face was glaringly obvious.  
  
'Of course you do,' he said shortly, changing gears with a vicious jerk.  
  
'Why must everything always come back to him for you?' she hissed dangerously.  
  
'Because it does!' James snapped, hitting his hand against the wheel. Ashleigh flinched at the angry gesture. 'Because he is alive, when he should be dead. He's mocking me, mocking me with every breath he takes. He's laughing at me.'  
  
She stared at the rain hitting the passenger window, watching the drops as they raced across the glass. No, she thought with sudden stab of humiliation. He's not laughing at you. He's laughing at both of us.  
  
The anger that had been carefully restrained in James was now pouring out. 'You should never have been involved with him. I don't care if you thought you had some feelings for him, you should never have been with him! He trapped you, manipulated you, and you were too weak to resist him. You believed yourself to be in some kind of debt to him, and it nearly got you killed!'  
  
'Are you finished?' she snarled. 'Good. Don't you ever call me weak again!' She was spitting the words out with anger. 'I did what I thought was for the best, and in the end, it worked. Look at me, James! I'm here aren't I? I'm back in good old England, and putting everything behind me. I just want to go back to work and forget about him. But forgive me if I have the occasional lapse!'  
  
It was perhaps the most frank conversation they had ever had. Glancing down, he saw her nails were cutting into her palms, gently he prised her fingers away, and took her hand. She managed a weak smile.  
  
'What happened with him, in Russia,' she saw him cringe, but carried on all the same. 'What happened was that I made a fool of myself, and I admit, I found myself in way over my head. I ended up hurt, and most definitely alone. I'm learning to live with that now, and I know its over. In fact, it barely even began. It's over. He's dead to me now.'  
  
He felt the tremble in her hand, and he squeezed it gently. 'Ashleigh,'  
  
'No, you're right. He was nothing more than a very tenuous link to my father. I let him get in the way of the mission, and yes, that was unprofessional of me. I've had to learn that lesson the hard way, but I know it now, and nothing like that will ever happen again. Believe me.  
  
He couldn't see her face in the darkness. 'Good,' he said softly.  
  
They turned onto her street, a long thin avenue lined with pretty sycamore trees, their bare branches battered by the driving rain. James pulled over.  
  
Leaning across, she lightly brushed her lips against his cheek, the first affectionate kiss she had given him in god knows how long. 'You know I never thanked you.'  
  
'For what?'  
  
'Looking after me. M put you in a difficult situation, but I think you did well. So thank you for looking after me out there, I couldn't have got through it without you. Particularly at the end. I've learnt a lot.'  
  
There was almost a mischievous edge to her smile. Almost.  
  
'You did well,' he admitted gruffly. For the most part, it was true. Just that one, notable exception...  
  
She shrugged. 'Let's just see how well I do when I get back.'  
  
'I could always put in a good word for you with M.'  
  
At least she laughed. 'Are you deliberately trying to sabotage my career?'  
  
No, he thought darkly. I've tried to. It seemed M hadn't paid the slightest jot of attention to his opinion.  
  
She glanced up at her house. 'I'd better go.'  
  
She slid out of the car, and with her shoulders bunched up against the rain, ran across the road and up the steps.  
  
He watched as she struggled with her keys, until finally, she opened the door, and with a final wave, slipped inside.  
  
In a year's time, she could be in training for a more senior status. Learning the skills and tactics that she would need as a 00 agent. Bond stood by his opinion that he had given M. She was still too young, but who knew what the next year held? Perhaps she could do it, after all, she was her father's daughter. So like David it was frightening at times. She could learn not to be so emotional. In fact, perhaps she was already learning.  
  
He glanced around the street he was on. About five minutes drive away was a rather attractive raven-haired woman. It had been some time since he had seen her, but Beth had always been accommodating. Well... while he was in the area....  
  
Inside her home, Ashleigh leant against the solid front door, and let out a long sigh. If she could fool James, then she could definitely fool herself.  
  
Reaching out, she fumbled with the light switch. She no longer liked the once comforting presence of the dark. Her house was how she had left it hours earlier, neat, tidy, and uncluttered. Some would even venture to say it looked unlived in. Right now Ashleigh didn't care. It was still reasonably early, she could pour herself a drink, stick some music on, and try to drown out the thoughts in her head.  
  
The vodka was so cold, it burnt her mouth. She relished each mouthful, letting it warm her from the inside. She slumped in a chair, curled her legs up, and felt close to calm.  
  
She may have dozed off, she didn't know how long she sat there, but the banging on the front door scared her half to death. She yanked the door open, ready to give whoever it was a piece of her mind, but she stopped dead.  
  
'Dan?' she asked. Shock was clear in her voice.  
  
The man standing on her doorstep was tall, dark and handsome. A cliché, but one that Daniel Abelman pulled off admirably. His broad shoulders were emphasised by the battered leather jacket, blue jeans only highlighted the length of his legs. The black fine knit jumper was stretched over a toned chest, and the white of the T-shirt underneath showed off his olive skin to perfection. It was if he chose the clothes deliberately to show these things, but Ashleigh knew that more than likely he had simply picked up the first things that came to hand. Stubble darkened the strong jaw, and his dark brown eyes looked bruised and dangerous. But then, they always did.  
  
She looked closer. There was a red flush across his cheekbones, the dark eyes seemed bloodshot, and there was a tension to his body. Had he been drinking? She glanced over his shoulder. His car was parked outside, the sleek black machine as lean as its owner. She seriously hoped he hadn't been drinking.  
  
'What are you doing here, Dan?' she asked warily.  
  
He stared at her for a moment, as if committing her face to memory. 'I heard rumours you might actually be in the country for once. I just had to come and check.'  
  
'Well, you've checked. And I'm here. So if you don't mind, I'll say goodnight.'  
  
'Ashleigh,' he said thickly, and put his foot in the way of the door.  
  
'What?' she folded her arms across her chest.  
  
'I brought you this,' he waved a bottle of red wine at her. 'Its only from the shop down the road, so it's not the greatest, but we could have a drink. We're friends aren't we?'  
  
'Yes,' she admitted grudgingly. 'Yes, we're friends.'  
  
It had been so long since she saw him. It would be so nice to have company for once, and Dan was always good company. He wasn't drunk, she realised, just... intense, for want of a better word. She couldn't figure him out.  
  
'I'll get some glasses,' she sighed.  
  
'Place hasn't changed a bit,' Dan muttered a few moments later as he walked around the living room.  
  
'I'm never here, so what's the point in changing it?' Ashleigh shrugged. She handed him a glass. 'So tell me why you're here. I somehow doubt you were just in the neighbourhood.'  
  
'I was working late. I knew you might be around, and I felt like seeing you.'  
  
'Is that all?'  
  
Dan ignored the question. 'Your company is doing well I see.'  
  
'What?' she asked, not expecting him to say that. Oh, yes. Universal Exports. Dan was a stockbroker, a good one as well, at least, that's what he told her. He thought she was a financial advisor at U.E, and more often than not tried to drag her into a debate. She nodded. 'Seems to be.'  
  
'Funny, everything else is losing points at the moment. U.E seems to be doing the opposite.'  
  
Of course it was, Ashleigh thought as she sipped her wine. While the world was in turmoil, Universal Exports thrived. It was hardly discreet. 'Hmm,' she answered noncommittally.  
  
'Sorry,' Dan gave her a boyish grin. Against her own will, she smiled back. 'No more shop talk, I promise.'  
  
'Why are you here? Why now Dan?' She couldn't help but feel there was a reason for him being there, and she needed to know.  
  
He was leaning forward, his long arms leaning on his long thigh muscles. Muscles that were strongly defined by years of playing rugby. Her rugby player. He glanced up at her through long, dark lashes. 'We were good together, weren't we?'  
  
'When?' she asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
'Stop it, Ashleigh. I'm trying to be serious, without you playing one of your silly games!'  
  
She paused, unsure how to take this. She had been completely thrown by the conversation. 'I-I'm sorry. I don't mean to.'  
  
He let it go, intent on saying what he had come here to say. 'Just 'us' you know, you and I. Together.'  
  
'Dan, we were students. We're talking a good four or five years ago now. Yes, we had fun, and we were good together, but I don't see why we're dragging the past up now.'  
  
'Hardly the past.'  
  
Ashleigh blushed. For the last few years, neither of them had had a serious relationship, preferring to throw themselves into their work. The passion that had seen them through university hadn't waned, despite their understanding that a proper relationship would be nothing but a disaster. Ashleigh had told Alec almost the complete truth – he was a friend, but occasionally, when she needed him, he would be there for her.  
  
'Yes. Well,' she was flustered. 'What are you saying, Dan?'  
  
'I want to try again. You and me, against the world.'  
  
Against the world. Did he even have any idea what the world could throw at him?  
  
Dan stared at the woman across the room from him. Ashleigh Kain. His teenage sweetheart? No, not quite. He had been twenty-three when he had first met the twenty year old Ashleigh. She was the first woman he had met that hadn't fallen instantly at his feet. She had been -what was the word? Aloof. Yes, aloof. That was perfect. Gradually he had broken down her barriers, until she had finally agreed to go out with him. His patience had paid off, and underneath the reserve he had found the passionate side of her. Once, he even thought he knew her. If he was honest with himself now, she was almost a stranger to him.  
  
Daniel Abelman had been thinking long and hard about his career recently. Stocks and shares were all good and well, but the elusive promotion he wanted so badly had remained just out of his grasp. The third one had slipped by him, and once again he had watched in silent fury as a less efficient colleague had leaped above him. What did they have that he didn't?  
  
The answer was obvious. They were settled. Married men, young children, they were seen as secure, and loyal. Dan may have been the harder worker, the more qualified for the position, but he was a young, single man, a different woman every weekend. And while no one said it to his face, it was clear that Faulkner and Dean, the company he worked for, preferred the settled man to the handsome playboy. Now there were rumours that could be another position opening up.  
  
And so Dan had made a decision. Ashleigh was... she was independent. They worked well together, they always had fun. She was successful in her own right, attractive in her own strange way, and intelligent. A good woman to have on your arm when your bosses were looking in your direction. She was one of the few people he could envision a future with. He had loved her once; he could love her again.  
  
Tonight though, she was playing hard to get.  
  
She seemed to be speaking through gritted teeth. 'Why are you doing this to me now?'  
  
He had hoped for a slightly more positive reaction. 'Because it's always been us. Why have we always fallen back into each other's arms? We're meant to be, I can see that, why can't you?'  
  
She stayed silent.  
  
'Is there someone else?' he growled.  
  
Ashleigh frowned. There had been a time when Dan was all she wanted. The closest she had ever come to falling on love with someone. But it had been a long time ago. And now? There were too many... complications.  
  
'No.' She shook her head vehemently. 'But even so, I don't want a relationship right now.'  
  
She didn't think she could stand to be hurt again. Not while she still felt so raw.  
  
'No, you just don't want a relationship with me. Is that it?'  
  
'I can't speak to you when you're like this Dan. Just, please, try to understand. I have my career to think of.'  
  
'If your career is so important, why have you taken so much time off recently?'  
  
'I needed a break. Not that it's any of your business. As a matter of fact, I go back tomorrow.'  
  
'Convenient.'  
  
'Fact,' she snapped back. She sighed, and ran a hand through her short hair. 'Dan, I'm tired. And I really don't want to fight with you.'  
  
'Then don't fight,' he moved so he was sitting next to her. 'I'm not saying we should just elope now, and get it over and done with, I just want you back in my life. On a more full time basis so to speak.'  
  
Slowly, he inched an arm round her.  
  
'Dan,' she warned.  
  
'I'm your friend, Ashleigh, your friend.'  
  
'I know.' She didn't have many. Perhaps she was being too harsh. It was just an idea after all. No pressure.  
  
Gently he pulled her into his embrace. She let him, feeling the softness of his jumper against her cheek, the solid weight of his chin resting on top of her head. It was familiar, and warm, and she felt the tension leave her body. He was her friend. She could smell the warm, almost cinnamon scent of his aftershave, and the smell of mint on his breath. She could hear his heart, strong, and steady, soothing her with its gentle rhythm.  
  
How long had it been since someone had just held her?  
  
Too long.  
  
She was feeling deliciously dizzy, the wine she had drank at dinner, the earlier vodka, and now the deep, fruity wine she sipped all adding to the warm sensations. She wasn't drunk, just... safe. She felt safe in Dan's arms, knew he would never hurt her, knew he only wanted what was best for her.  
  
Would it be so terrible to fall for him?  
  
Life was too short for being alone.  
  
Her fingers lightly traced the stubble on his jaw. Like they had done a thousand times before. As she found his right cheekbone she paused. Apart from the stubble, his skin was so smooth, so perfect.  
  
So wrong.  
  
He mistook her confusion for hesitancy. His mouth found hers, gently, tenderly.  
  
She was lonely. She tightened her arms around him and kissed him back. 


	38. Chapter Thirty Six

A/N: Nice to know that I'm in more danger of being lynched if I don't finish this story rather than for anything else! Thank you for all the reviews, and welcome back to Iolana! Lovely to see you're still around. I would recommend that you all immediately go to her page (can access through my review page) and read her wonderful work that always inspires.  
  
It was Iolana that led me to this page – interesting debate over why Alec could still be playing with the ending, still not wanting this to end... a.  
  
The two men were clearly arguing over something or other. However, what wasn't immediately clear. Sighing, Ashleigh hit the 'rewind button' listened carefully to the sequence again, before jotting down neat, precise notes when she felt it was appropriate.  
  
Anyone who happened to peer inside the office would simply see a young, smartly dressed woman, working hard in a cool efficient manner. Appearances could be so deceptive though.  
  
Inside, she was seething.  
  
Her triumphant return to MI6 had not gone as well as she had hoped. Half expecting to be welcomed back like the prodigal son, she had been confused when it had become apparent that no one knew what she was supposed to be doing there. Moneypenny, however, came to the rescue, with a collection of files. She had handed them to Ashleigh with a slightly guilty look.  
  
'M left specific orders for you,' Moneypenny gestured to the top file in an apologetic manner. 'You'll find them in there.'  
  
'I was supposed to see M when I returned,' Ashleigh had persisted, struggling to get a grip on the high pile of slippery folders. 'You told me so last night.' She was aware that she was sounding like a spoilt brat, but her confusion was combining with tiredness, and she didn't have the strength to fight.  
  
'Yes, I'm afraid that won't be possible at the moment. M has been called abroad on urgent business.' It sounded like a flimsy excuse, and Moneypenny knew it. The red head's had face softened as she spoke. 'I'm sorry, Ashleigh, but I've already told you too much. I'm sure though that M will want to see you when she returns.'  
  
'I'm sure,' Ashleigh had muttered sullenly, and retreated with her stack of files.  
  
The small office she found herself in was definitely small. Drab and dreary were also words that sprang to Ashleigh's mind. It was depressing, and disheartening, and nothing like she had imagined. The work she was doing didn't help.  
  
The men continued arguing in Russian. Ashleigh knew several languages, learnt at her employer's insistence, and was therefore considered the perfect person for the job of working through the large pile of surveillance recordings. It was difficult work, but dull. Each recording could hold the key to something huge, a terrorist attack, underhand dealings, anything, and Ashleigh had to catch what the key statements were. Unfortunately they were usually well hidden in the most trivial conversations. It was a punishment duty, loosely disguised as serious work, and Ashleigh had to grit her teeth and get on with it.  
  
She would probably have had more success with the task if she were actually focused on the job in hand.  
  
Instead, she tapped her pen lightly against the desk in front of her, and thought of the events of the night before.  
  
Sleeping with Dan had not been her wisest decision. But caught up in the moment, lost in her own loneliness she had needed him, pulling him closer all the time, kissing him hard, wrapping herself around him as if his body could exorcise all thoughts of Alec. They knew each other, and they had quickly found the kind of pleasure that comes from familiarity, and at the time she hadn't regretted it.  
  
It was afterwards, when they lay quietly in the dark, not knowing whether to speak, or to fall into sleep, that the doubts had begin to rise once more. It had felt so good to have someone touch her, someone who was warm and welcoming, and unlikely to hold a gun to her temple afterwards. Someone who had wanted her for herself, and not what he could gain from bedding her. When he had taken her hand, and led her to her bed, she had gone willingly, almost enthusiastically.  
  
However, that one act couldn't heal everything.  
  
Couldn't wipe away the memories of another man.  
  
In the darkness, he had held her, stroking her, whispering to her, thoughts that made her cold, thoughts of their future together. Not now, he had been quick to warn, but some day. He didn't want to lose her again, he wanted them to follow the same paths, to think of a life together.  
  
Marriage. A family. 2.4 children. Only that statistic was wrong now, the figure was closer to 1.3. 1.3 children and a Labrador. The 4x4 sitting outside their fashionable London home, later they could move to the country away from the smog of the city, give the child and the Labrador more room, more security, a better healthier life for all involved.  
  
Of course he hadn't said these things. But the implication was there. And even just idea of it all left her cold. She wanted her career. She wanted her own independence. Whatever way she looked at it she knew it was wrong.  
  
It wasn't the life she wanted.  
  
As that thought had flared in her mind, his hand had tightened on her arm. In the almost dark room, it should have been difficult to see, but the scar on her bicep had glowed palely in the dim light, catching his attention. For a moment she hadn't known what he was talking about, but he was moving, shifting his position so he could see it better.  
  
'What the hell happened to you?' he had asked, anger flaring on his face.  
  
She had jerked her arm away, wrapping it around herself defensively. 'Nothing.'  
  
'It doesn't look like nothing.'  
  
I was stabbed by a psychotic megalomaniac, she had wanted to say, to throw the words at him in defiance. She didn't want to think about it, she didn't want to remember the blood, the pain, the pale blue eyes slowly clouding over as the woman had died in Ashleigh's arms. Instead, she had fallen back on the old reliable. 'I was in a car crash on my last business trip.' She tried to say it so matter of factly that he had no choice but to accept her statement, but he persisted.  
  
'A car crash?' he had tried to pull her arm to him to take a closer look, but stubbornly, she held it back. 'It looks more like a...'  
  
'Glass,' she interrupted. 'The window shattered, and a pane of glass hit me.'  
  
He had traced the healing skin with a long finger. He had spoken quietly, knowing she would object to his words. 'Have you ever thought that perhaps you take too much on?'  
  
'What do you mean?' she had snatched the covers over her, pulling them tightly around herself as if she could defend herself from his attack.  
  
'You take on so much. Surely your company could cope without you?'  
  
'Perhaps I enjoy my work.' Her temper was rising, and she refused to hold her tongue. 'How dare you suggest that I give it up? What the hell gives you the right to say that?'  
  
'I'm not saying give it up, I'm saying that you don't have to take every business trip abroad, you don't have to over see every merger, every transaction. Isn't there something else you could do?'  
  
'No,' she snapped shortly.  
  
'You're never home, Ashleigh. You look exhausted, you work so hard. You should take a break.'  
  
'I've just had a break.' And hated every minute of it, she thought bitterly.  
  
'Look, if you won't listen to me...'  
  
'I am listening to you! I understand perfectly what you're saying, and I simply don't agree with it. This is my work, my career, and I don't think I work too hard. I don't see how you can judge that. How about I ask you to stop throwing yourself around in the mud every weekend? Ask you not to work every hour of the day, or push yourself more than you should?'  
  
He ignored her. 'I'm worried about you.'  
  
'Well, don't be. I don't need people worrying about me. I never have and I never will.'  
  
She was breathing hard, her face flushed with anger. Why did everyone try to dictate her life? Why couldn't people see that she had survived this long on her own, she could continue doing so.  
  
He seemed to understand that he had pushed her too far. Leaning over her, he brushed a strand of hair from her face. 'Sorry,' he whispered.  
  
She sighed; knowing it was easier to say nothing than to argue. She was too tired to fight, and so she turned, sliding her hand up his chest.  
  
The toned muscles danced beneath her hand, her fingers curled into the light dusting of dark hair, the olive skin was smooth and supple beneath her palm. He dropped a kiss onto her dark hair, and she sighed, content, ready to slip into the welcoming embrace of a dreamless sleep.  
  
Suddenly she jerked away, confused. The broad shoulders were similar, but the solid muscles of Dan's chest were wrong, they should have been subtle and lithe. The dusting of dark hair was wrong too, and she stared at him.  
  
'Ashleigh? Are you alright?'  
  
She half expected to see green eyes where there were brown, blond hair were there was dark, and there should have been a knowing smirk in place of a worried expression.  
  
She knew that then he would haunt her forever.  
  
She shook her head to clear it, and then licked her dry lips. 'I'm fine,' she managed to whisper. 'I think I just startled myself.'  
  
'You look tired. Perhaps you should try to sleep.'  
  
I am tired, she had thought. Tired of everything.  
  
She had just wanted to get back to work. Work was normality. Work meant no complications, just the necessity to do her duty. When she woke up, she could go to work. So she had slept.  
  
In the morning, Dan had been awake, and enthusiastic about matters. Their argument in the dark had seemed to wash over him, he took no notice of the dark looks she had shot him, or the way she had hurried him out of her house.  
  
'Dinner, tonight,' he had ordered, as she had practically pushed him down the front steps to the pavement. 'No refusing.'  
  
Accepting had seemed the easiest way to get him to go. And a lot less violent than brute force.  
  
He had rung twice that day already. Both times she had refused to answer, and in anger, had eventually turned the phone off. He knew she hated being contacted while she was at work, claiming she didn't need the distractions, and yet he had deliberately ignored that.  
  
It was unfair to be so angry with Dan, Ashleigh knew that, but common sense had returned with a vengeance. She couldn't use one man to forget another. For once, she wished her life were less complicated.  
  
She slipped the headphones on once more, and listened as the two Russian voices blended harshly into each other. There was absolutely nothing going on in this conversation, except perhaps some very shady deals involving oil, but nothing to warrant MI6's investigation.  
  
The pile of files towered over her. Each disc filled with conversations, each more monotonous than the last. Where was the excitement in this? Where was the job satisfaction? She should be in the field, doing something, not sitting at a desk. She looked at her watch, discovering it was still only midmorning. She could go and find something to eat, something to drink, anything to break up the boring task in front of her.  
  
Sliding her chair back, she opened the door to the office. And turned left.  
  
Which surprised her. She had intended to turn right.  
  
No one paid any attention to the dark haired woman who stared intently at the heavily sectioned wall. Everyone was far too busy, and it wasn't unusual that people would simply come to this room to think. To remember. After all, that was what the memorial wall was for.  
  
Hundreds of plaques covered the wall, endless names, dates, and the sense that those that stood there should never forget. They had died in the line of duty, and they would be remembered.  
  
Alec had sneered at the triviality of these plaques, the stars that decorated them, but agents who fell received one. It was the final honour. Their names would live on forever. They would be remembered for their sacrifice.  
  
On the far right, the newest plaques were placed. Three up from the bottom stood one remembering Gregory Fraser, a man killed as an afterthought. Ashleigh nodded at it, as if that action could somehow say more than words ever could.  
  
She knew where all the important ones were. Or rather, the ones that were important to her. Nancy Simmons. The third woman to achieve 00 status. Killed in Afghanistan four years ago. The three letters that told her status, how important she had been to MI6 – 004. Three women had made 00 status, one had retired, Simmons murdered, and Melissa Cassidy, 008, executed in some extreme region of South America. Her body had never been recovered. She had been the first woman to reach that pinnacle of ambition, and among the female agents, those three names were held in esteem. They inspired, they encouraged the women to achieve all they wanted. They too could prove themselves as members of the elite 00 agents.  
  
It wasn't feminism that drove this ambition. It was feminine pride. That they too could do the job as well as their male counterparts.  
  
It was what Ashleigh had always worked towards.  
  
If it meant that one day the name Ashleigh Kain was engraved onto a plaque and fixed to this wall, then so be it. As long as those three important numbers were on there as well. Perhaps future agents would come, and stare at her name, and feel their own passion for their work flare, inspired by her sacrifice, driven to succeed by her death. Perhaps some would even look to the past, glancing back over black marble rectangles, and make the connection between her name, and another, years earlier.  
  
As she stared at her father's name, at the 009, she felt the same burst of pride as she always did, immediately followed by the familiar stab of grief that always came too. Idly she wondered if he would have approved of her relationship, or rather her 'fling' with Alec.  
  
At the merest flicker of his name, her eyes jerked to the next column on the left, and immediately fell upon his name.  
  
There had been so many protests over Alec's memorial being left on the wall. They called him a traitor, called him evil, a betrayer to Crown and Country. More importantly, they called him a traitor to MI6. And that crime was unforgivable. The plaque still bore a scar where a furious agent had taken a hacksaw to it, disfiguring it easily as the explosion at Arkangel had scarred Alec. Lightly Ashleigh ran her finger down that groove as she had so many times before.  
  
The black marble was covered in smudged fingerprints that suggested Ashleigh was not the only person to stand in front of that name and stare in fascination. A mythology had sprung up around Alec and his story, a strange epic tale of betrayal, and danger. There were elements of truth in there, but like a game of Chinese whispers, the truth had been distorted with each telling of the story. Rumours were everywhere. Some believed that Alec's Cossack heritage had been discovered and he had been forced out (ignoring the fact that of course, everyone had already known about it), or that he had been set up by a another agent (more often than not Ashleigh had heard James's name connected with that.) Some even said that he was an undercover agent, and that the events of Goldeneye had been a cover up.  
  
Ashleigh had laughed grimly at that. She had always ignored the rumours, and if anyone had brought them up in her presence, her temper had always caused her to snap, turning on the gossiping agent, and demanding to know why the dead could not be left in peace?  
  
She couldn't deny the fact that he was a traitor. But she had known him, even if only for the briefest moment in her childhood, she had touched him, spoken to him, and seen his relationship with her father and with James. She had known Alec Trevelyan, 006, not these simpering smirking agents, and she would not let those memories be sullied by their gossip mongering.  
  
It was M who had come to Alec's defence, and in a round about way had agreed with Ashleigh's point of view. After several attacks on the memorial wall, M had ordered severe punishment for any agent who dared deface such an honour. There had been protests of course, but M had been adamant. The wall commemorated those that had died. Alec Trevelyan, the 00 agent had died, and had been lost to them. The plaque would remain and remember the man, the agent that had been, and not the man he had returned as.  
  
Janus had been a separate man to Alec.  
  
Gradually though, since her return, and as her anger abated, Ashleigh had stopped thinking of him as Janus. Once more he was Alec in her mind.  
  
She missed him.  
  
A few nights together. A few illicit kisses.  
  
And she missed him.  
  
She missed how easy it had been around him, how she didn't have to pretend to be someone she wasn't.  
  
She missed the danger.  
  
She missed his touch.  
  
Yes. She missed that the most. His kiss, his touch, his caress. The anger had faded, her fury at his refusal to help her further had gradually slipped away to be replaced by this helpless longing.  
  
Things were certainly complicated.  
  
Except, at the same time, things weren't. How could things be complicated, when she knew, knew without a doubt that she would never see him again?  
  
No, things were disturbingly simple. She would get over him, eventually, but throwing herself into a relationship was not the way to do it. M had been right to force her to take a break, to give her time to let herself adjust.  
  
To remember how to survive by being alone.  
  
She sighed, not with dismay, but with realisation. The Americans called it closure, the psychobabble that passed for common sense these days.  
  
Fight for no one but yourself, Kain, she told herself firmly, not for the first time either. Leaning forward, she rested her forehead on the cool marble surface.  
  
'Kain?' A hesitant pause as the speaker took in the strange position of the other woman. It was a situation that didn't require the usual formalities. 'Ashleigh?'  
  
Reluctantly Ashleigh pulled away from the wall. 'Moneypenny.'  
  
Moneypenny's arms were filled with more files. Ashleigh glared at them darkly.  
  
'I thought you might find you here.'  
  
'I'm that predictable am I?'  
  
'No. I asked if anyone had seen you.' Moneypenny smiled kindly. 'It tends to be easier.'  
  
'Sorry,' Ashleigh coloured. She found herself snapping at people more and more often recently.  
  
Moneypenny hesitated again, unsure whether to say what she wanted to say. 'I know what happened out in Russia, I know who you got involved with, and I know that things didn't work out well between you and him.'  
  
'Oh.' Ashleigh bit her lip. 'Its not, I mean, what happened between Alec and I, its not common knowledge is it?'  
  
'Of course not, believe me, MI6 are reluctant to announce the fact that Janus is alive and well.' Moneypenny was quick to reassure. 'But I do get to hear things, and I know from experience just how charming Alec can be when he wants to.'  
  
'You and Alec?'  
  
The thought of Alec and this attractive elegant woman together made her head swim with a sudden burst of jealousy. It made sense of course, the handsome young playboy agent, and the younger, beautiful Moneypenny, the short moments of flirtation in the office, perhaps the suggestion of dinner, his lips touching hers, his hands roaming that soft pale skin, tangled in the thick red hair. The beginnings of an office romance, secret glances, stolen moments, frantic hasty kisses before anyone could spot them together.  
  
The world seemed to tilt beneath her feet.  
  
She hated the thought of Alec touching anyone but her.  
  
But what could she do about it now?  
  
Move on, that little voice repeated somewhere in the depths of her skull.  
  
She took a deep breath, and composed herself. Forced herself to listen to what Moneypenny was saying.  
  
'Almost,' Moneypenny sensed the flicker of unhappiness from the younger woman, and smiled sadly. 'Perhaps if we'd been less busy, less involved with work something more might have happened, but I do remember that when Alec sets his mind on something he usually gets it.'  
  
'I'm not what he wants anymore.' Ashleigh forced a stoical smile onto her face.  
  
'Perhaps not, but you should be flattered. Alec isn't James. A pretty face isn't enough for him, he likes to be challenged, admires intelligence. Or at least the Alec I knew did. Maybe he's changed, I just don't know.'  
  
Was there a trace of regret in Moneypenny's voice?  
  
'I don't mean to bring up the past, Ashleigh, or stir up bad memories, but if you ever have any questions about ... him... ' Moneypenny refused to meet Ashleigh's eyes, 'Then you know you can always ask me. I knew him.'  
  
For a moment Ashleigh was lost for words, and then she felt gratitude threaten to overwhelm her. Why hadn't she thought of it earlier? If anyone would have known Alec, it would have been Moneypenny. Ashleigh knew that she would never be able to take Moneypenny up on her offer, would never be able to face the humiliation that would swamp her if she ever plucked up the courage to actually ask.  
  
'Thanks,' she murmured awkwardly. 'But would you mind awfully if I put all this as far behind me as possible? I'm clinging onto the last shreds of my dignity by my fingernails...' her voice tailed off.  
  
'Of course.' Moneypenny seemed to remember why she had sought the younger agent out. 'These are for you, I'm afraid.'  
  
'I had guessed,' Ashleigh flipped through the top file. 'More translating?'  
  
'More translating. However, these are to take priority, new orders from the woman herself.'  
  
'Any particular reason?'  
  
'Not that I know of. You might want to brush up your Italian though.'  
  
'Not Italian, please.' The language was a beautiful fluid language, filled with passion and enthusiasm, but it was a nightmare to keep up with, particularly when, as in Ashleigh's case, the listener was rather rusty.  
  
'Italian.' Moneypenny confirmed. 'Just remember that while M tends to work in mysterious ways, she usually has an ulterior motive.'  
  
A genuine smile crossed Ashleigh's lips, the spy on her wondered if the other woman was trying to hint at something. 'I'll make sure I remember that then.'  
  
Moneypenny smiled herself, and leant forward in a confiding gesture. 'You did not hear this from me, and if M ever finds out I told you, then I hate to think what terrible punishment she would think up, but this isn't what you were originally assigned to do. M had specific duties for you, you were to be informed of them this morning, but at the last moment, she pulled you from them. Right now, you're supposed to be preparing yourself to fly out with three other agents to Kyoto. However, at the last minute M changed her mind, and you're not on your way to Japan, you are about to work your way through a pile of Italian conversations for reasons known only to the woman in charge. Who, in her usual mysterious manner has vanished off the face of the earth. There is no point in asking me where she is, because even I don't know. But I do know that this is not what you were supposed to be doing.'  
  
Ashleigh listened carefully. It always struck her as being ironic that at MI6 there was very little that could ever be kept a secret. 'So what do you think I should do?' she asked as casually as she could.  
  
'What you have been told to do of course. If M has something up her sleeve, then all you can do is wait for her to return.'  
  
She shot Ashleigh a conspiratorial glance, turned on her heel, and walked away. The sound of her shoes on the floor was suddenly very loud. Ashleigh held the files close to her chest, gnawing on her lower lip thoughtfully.  
  
Moneypenny was right. For now there was nothing that she could do, but obey, like the good dutiful agent she was. Slowly she worked her way back through the maze of bland corridors back towards the small lifeless room that would be her office for the next few days.  
  
If M was planning something...  
  
The question was what...  
  
She would find out soon enough. Suddenly she was fired up with a sudden enthusiasm.  
  
There was something to work for again. 


	39. Chapter Thirty Seven

I have been asked why I do not write from Alec's perspective – the problem is, I can't. I don't feel I know him well enough to, and I'm trying very hard to keep him as much in character as I can, given the story line. He's a very difficult character to write as you never really get to know him in 'Goldeneye' so most of the characterisation work here is guess work.  
  
Once again, thank you for all the reviews.

* * *

It had been over a year since the woman had last climbed the rickety wooden steps to the terrace on the roof of the taverna. The tiles were still chipped, and one had shattered, sending small pieces scattering over the terrace. The same cracked terracotta pots held still wilting plants, and the same painted wrought iron furniture waited for customers. The paint was still peeling, and idly the woman reached out, and pulled a piece away, rubbing it between her fingers thoughtfully.  
  
'For you,' a voice grunted in heavily accented English behind her.  
  
She wasn't startled, having heard the heavy footsteps of the owner as he had grudgingly climbed the steps behind her. A carafe of wine was placed on the peeling table, along with two glasses. M frowned with distaste at the thought of the sweet, thick, sickly liquid on such a hot day, and wished she could have asked for something else, but the taverna owner had already left, and she doubted he would have complied with her request anyway.  
  
It was hot. Compared to the damp, and chilled London she had left behind, this city was simply steaming. Smog hung over the crowded streets in a thick, grimy layer, traffic crowded below, with every vehicle fighting for precedence in the chaos. It was a bustling, busy city, but with a dark side just waiting to erupt into violence at the slightest provocation.  
  
It suited the man she waited for.  
  
There was a creak from below as someone began to climb the stairs. Quickly M crossed the terrace, and took a seat, composing herself for what she felt could inevitably only be a confrontation.  
  
For a man who had been hiding underground for the last few months, he looked disturbingly well. The sun had caught his skin, the suit was, as always, impeccably tailored, and he carried himself with his usual languid confidence. A pair of expensive sunglasses were thrown with deceptive casualness onto the table, leaning over, he reached for the wine.  
  
'I wouldn't. It's warm.'  
  
'It's been many years since you were in a position to tell me what and what not to do.'  
  
M simply raised her shoulders in a dismissive shrug.  
  
He grimaced. The wine was indeed overly warm, tepid in his mouth, and sickly sweet. He quickly put the glass back down and pushed it away.  
  
'I did warn you.'  
  
Alec Trevelyan glared at the woman who had once been his superior. Who calmly stared back at him. The city might have been stifling hot, but M showed no outward sign that it was effecting her. Her pale blue eyes were as cool as ever. Alec on the other hand felt the sun bearing down upon him, and loosened his tie with a vicious jerk.  
  
'You're here then.'  
  
'You ordered it. And I obeyed. Like I always do.'  
  
'I thought I wasn't in a position to tell you what to do.'  
  
'Must you manipulate everything?'  
  
M drummed her fingers lightly on the table. 'If I have to manipulate to gain control, then so be it. Control is everything in this line of work. Every eventuality must be considered, calculated. However it's impossible to predict every outcome. Variables become erratic, and suddenly, there's a rogue element in the equation. That's the moment when the entire structure becomes unstable. Control is lost.'  
  
A muscle ticked in Alec's smooth left cheek. 'You're telling me this why?'  
  
She shot him a look that told him he knew exactly why. 'I had considered every possible outcome. Success. Failure. Life, or death. The mission to retrieve Hermes should have been a roaring success. Except, I didn't allow for that rogue element.'  
  
'And what exactly was that?' his pretence of boredom was growing thin as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. There was no shade in which to seek reprieve from; instead the sun beat down upon him, as relentless as M's unwavering gaze.  
  
Below them there was a sudden flare of car horns, and a cacophony of shouting. Alec turned irritably towards the sound, and in that moment, he nearly missed M's hushed words.  
  
'She's alive.'  
  
For the briefest second, the relief was palpable on his face, his shoulders slumped with the sudden removal of tension, and he let out his breath. It was over in the blink of an eye, so quickly M wondered if she had imagined it.  
  
'Good,' he said shortly, and pushed his chair back, the metal screeching on the tiles.  
  
'Is that all you have to say?' M refused to let him ruffle her feathers.  
  
He paused. When he spoke, ice coated every word. 'I did everything you asked me to. I wanted to be there at the end. I wanted to go to the ship with them. You ordered me out of Russia, and I went. I asked only one thing, that if she survived - if they survived - you would tell me. I know now. I have no reason to stay.'  
  
M picked up her wine, and sipped. Alec sat again, knowing he couldn't walk away, and M knew it too. Neither were willing to give an inch.  
  
'Is she – I mean Ash – how is she?'  
  
'She's acting like the foolish young woman she is.' M let her anger show briefly. 'For as long as I've know you Alec, you've always had women coming out of your ears. What's so special about this one? Why did she have to be one of my agents?'  
  
'She was there.'  
  
M pursed her lips. '"She was there". Is that truly all you can say on the matter? "She was there." Next you'll be asking me to believe that she means nothing to you.'  
  
'She doesn't,' he said, but there was a twitch in his cheek.  
  
'So why go to all the effort to assist her? Why put your own neck on the line? Why bother worrying if she's alive?'  
  
The twitch became a clenching of the jaw.  
  
'But, yes she is alive. As is James. Deronda and Elliot on the other hand are dead, and Hermes retrieved and destroyed. And please, stop giving me that look. I know full well that you wanted to help, but you also know there was no way I could have allowed you to accompany them. So stop scowling at me, and listen to what I have to say.'  
  
'Why?'  
  
'Because I have an agent that is currently walking around like a love sick teenager and its affecting her work. I can't allow her to continue in this manner. Therefore, I want to make you an offer.'  
  
Alec waited. Under the table, unseen, he clenched his fists, half eager, half dreading what this woman was going to say. His meeting with M in this place over a year ago had changed his perspective on life somewhat. Reluctantly, week by week, communication by communication, M had drawn him back to MI6, blackmailing him into co-operation. He knew names, he knew details, he knew locations.  
  
Immunity.  
  
It was such a simple thing, but to Alec it had been everything. A chance to live in peace. M would 'overlook' the 'small international incident' that had been Goldeneye, and Alec's willingness to destroy entire countries, and instead appeal to the man he had become. Tempting him, holding out the shining apple, all he had to do was take it.  
  
He had bitten deeply into it, and found it sweet.  
  
Life had been almost content, until one night, he had discovered his name being linked with a mysterious consignment, and curiosity had dragged him out of hiding.  
  
They had been fools. Set up to take each other out. MI6's agents would remove Janus, or Janus would remove MI6. It simply screamed Lucinda's handiwork. The bitch had tried to use him, to prove herself against him, knowing that her power would always be linked to her lover, and nothing more. Lucinda Elliot had been determined to prove that she could work alone.  
  
She hadn't counted on what had happened next.  
  
His men had given chase, but mercifully stopped short of actually killing their prey. Lying at his feet, helpless, and at his mercy. A useful bargaining chip should everything fall to pieces, he had taken her back to his home.  
  
Aggressive. Defiant. Furious. She had fought against him every inch of the way, and he had admired that. He had wanted her, and she had wanted him, no matter how hard she fought it. Desire was a powerful drug.  
  
She was his one weakness.  
  
And M knew it. M was going to manipulate this for all that it was worth.  
  
'As an agent, Alec, you were one of the best I have ever known.' M spoke softly, a confession for Alec only, 'If you hadn't defected, then you could have been the best. You made your choice then. However, you are an invaluable asset to MI6, and we like to protect our investments.'  
  
'I scratch your back, and you'll scratch mine,' he murmured.  
  
'Exactly,' M narrowed her eyes. 'I propose this; constant surveillance. I want an agent near you all the time. I want to know what you're doing, when you're doing it, and how you will be doing it. I want someone who can let us know what you're going to do before you've even realised it yourself. I don't trust you an inch, Alec, but unfortunately I have to rely on you. It's not a situation I particularly like, but it will have to do. And by placing someone who I do trust close to you... well... we all get what we want in the end.'  
  
'What we want? And what exactly do you think I want, M?'  
  
'Not 'what', Alec, but 'who'.' M sat back in her seat with a satisfied smile. It was all so simple. Control had been regained.  
  
Alec sat, stunned. 'You mean...'  
  
'Yes.'  
  
'No!' Alec roared, and for a moment M was scared the table would be thrown over. She slammed her hands down onto it.  
  
Alec paced the terrace furiously. 'No,' he hissed. 'No.'  
  
'Problema?' a low voice growled. The bar tender, hearing raised voices and the table screeching across the tiles as Alec had stood, had left his usual post, and ventured into the sunlight.  
  
'You could say that,' Alec muttered.  
  
'Not at all,' M smiled coolly at the man. 'Everything is fine.'  
  
'You can't do this M,' Alec snarled as the man grudgingly headed back down the stairs.  
  
'Why not?'  
  
'You can't continually use your agents as pawns in whatever strange game you're playing.'  
  
'The game I'm playing Alec is called International Security. You are a threat to that security, I'm merely safeguarding against every possibility.'  
  
'By asking Ash to spy on me?'  
  
'Hardly spy on you.'  
  
'What else would you call it?'  
  
'I would assign Agent Kain to you-'  
  
'To spy on me.'  
  
'No. If Agent Kain chooses to accept this assignment, I will discharge her from MI6. Officially, she will no longer be an agent, unofficially; she will be working directly for me in a freelance capacity.'  
  
'Would she accept?'  
  
'Agent Kain will do what I tell her to do.'  
  
'So she'll be 'unofficially' spying on me,' the bitterness in his voice was clear.  
  
'What else can I do, Alec?' M sighed. 'Tell me, what else I can do, and I will. You're a wanted man. You can't return to England, nor can you ever be safe anywhere in the world. There are too many out there that want to bring down Janus. She'll be there in a protective stance. Not just as an informant.'  
  
It was something of an understatement. Alec paused, and turned slowly back. 'And if she comes? She'll be risking her life.'  
  
'I think she'd be willing to.' M softened. 'You had more of an effect on her than I think she would care to admit.'  
  
Alec nodded slowly. 'But ultimately she'll still be spying on me.'  
  
M smiled broadly. 'Keep your nose clean, and she won't have anything to tell me.'  
  
Alec hesitated. The chance to see Ashleigh again was a tempting one indeed. The sheer relief he had felt when M had confirmed her survival persuaded him that he might actually care for her. To see her again. To hold her again.  
  
He was getting old, he thought wryly. And M knew it. 'If I agree to this, immunity continues?'  
  
M nodded. 'Immunity continues.'  
  
'You really think she'll come?' he asked softly.  
  
'We'll see,' M leant forward and poured them both another glass of wine. 'Now, onto our current situation. I believe we have some matters to discuss.'  
  
Alec reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and removed a series of photographs. 'Flew in three days ago from Beijing.'  
  
'Active?'  
  
'Very.'  
  
M picked up the photographs and flipped through them. 'Excellent. Proceed with caution from now on, Alec, I want you to keep your head down, and out of danger.'  
  
'As if I would willingly put myself in danger.'  
  
M glared at him. 'Just stay out of trouble until I can get an agent to you. You will receive new orders then.'  
  
'Of course. Will I recognise this agent of yours?'  
  
'You might, Alec,' she murmured, determined to keep him on his toes. 'But then, you might not.' 


	40. Chapter Thirty Eight

I was going to post this last night, but unfortunately a small matter of the football got in the way. I am, of course, devastated by England crashing out of Euro2004.

Much thanks to Io for reading this through for me before hand.

* * *

Working late at MI6 was a common occurrence. There were far too many people there whose lives simply revolved around their work. Sometimes it was easier to simply stay late, and arrive early, rather than face the emptiness, and the loneliness of their homes. At work there was a sense of forced family, a sense of belonging. Colleagues were the closest things to friends.  
  
It had been late when Ashleigh had left her desk and headed for the gym in the basement of the building. She nodded at those she recognised before losing herself in the intense workout that had been coordinated for her.  
  
As she pulled and stretched on the rowing machine, she was amused to find herself mentally counting in Italian. Too many recordings, she laughed to herself. She had thrown herself into the translations, but the days seemed endless, and had begun to blend into each other. The gym was the way of regaining some sort of sanity at the end of the day. Or evening, she realised, checking the time on her watch, although even that description was pushing it.  
  
Quickly she showered, dressed, and made her way through the winding corridors towards the car park.  
  
Her car was on the far side of the near empty car park. Even though most agents liked to leave late, this was beyond that. The car park was in near darkness, as she began her traipse along row after row.  
  
She didn't notice the official marked car, or if she did, she didn't pay attention to it.  
  
'Agent Kain.'  
  
Turning, she saw the rear door was open. She recognised the voice.  
  
'Sir?'  
  
'Get in the car, Kain.'  
  
Ashleigh hesitated, looking around the empty carpark. Her own car was parked less than twenty metres away.  
  
'Yes, sir.'  
  
The sign of a good agent was that they obeyed when they were ordered.  
  
Ashleigh had been born in London. She had lived there until she was eleven years old when she had left for school in the rolling, lush, green countryside of South West, but she had always returned to London and her home for the holidays. When her father had died, she had stayed in the West Country, until she had finished school. Even then it had seemed too soon to return to the capital city she still thought of as home. So she had applied for university in Bath, and for three happy years she had been content in the ancient Cathedral city. Returning to London had been strange, but she had felt as if she had come home.  
  
Staring at the familiar sights from the back of M's official car though, the city felt alien and strange. Her skin prickled with tension, she clenched and unclenched her hands as they were driven over one of the many bridges over the Thames. The water looked like ink in the darkness, glittering with thousands of reflected light.  
  
'You're keeping well, Kain?' M asked, staring out of the window on her side.  
  
'Yes, sir.'  
  
'Good. And the translating?'  
  
'Almost complete, sir.'  
  
'Excellent.'  
  
Silence fell again. It seemed easier to simply stare out of the window than to attempt more polite conversation. M would speak when she felt ready, she would just have to wait. Whitehall; half covered in scaffolding, reared over the river proudly. Ashleigh stared up at the illuminated walls, trying to ignore the feeling of dread that settled somewhere just beneath her rib cage.  
  
'This is for you,' M held out a large manila envelope to Ashleigh.  
  
Curious, Ashleigh made to tear it open, but M stopped her. 'Not yet. Listen to me first.'  
  
Ashleigh nodded mutely, her fingers tracing over the sharp corners of the envelope.  
  
'You've been on my mind for some time, Agent Kain. I find myself asking myself the same question over and over again. But before I can answer that, I have to ask you something.'  
  
'Anything, sir.'  
  
M turned to face her at last, the headlight of oncoming cars picking up the silvery highlights in her close cropped hair. 'How badly do you want to be a double 0 agent?'  
  
'Sir?' Ashleigh frowned. 'You know I want that promotion.'  
  
'Do you?' Shrewd blue eyes glinted in the dim light.  
  
Ashleigh bit her lip and turned away from the penetrating stare.  
  
How badly did she want it? The New Year had brought changes that she had never expected, most of all within herself.  
  
'I don't know, sir.' The admission crept slowly from her.  
  
M nodded as if she had been expecting the answer. Carefully she crossed her legs in the narrow space behind the passenger seat, and smoothed her skirt over her knees. Ashleigh gripped the envelope tighter.  
  
'When I informed you of your leave of absence, I fully intended to make good on my promise. If you were still set on that course of action, then I would be ordering your assessment right now. But you're not, are you?'  
  
'No.' Why lie any longer? The nagging suspicion that had been growing since Russia had finally manifested itself. She didn't want that life. She didn't want the loneliness of that life. Perhaps, in his own selfish way, Dan had been right.  
  
'Have you given any thought to what you were going to do instead?'  
  
'I hadn't thought that far yet, sir.' Ashleigh coloured in the shadows.  
  
M paused thoughtfully. 'What I say next, Agent Kain, is entirely off the record.'  
  
'Yes, sir.'  
  
'We currently are in contact with a man who is an extremely valuable asset to our organisation. His identity is known only to those with the highest security clearance. At this moment in time, he is attempting to infiltrate the network of an underground arms dealer with potential terrorist connections. Unfortunately, we have reason to believe that his cover has been blown, and we require an agent to assist in getting him out.'  
  
'Yes, sir.'  
  
'If you accept this mission, Kain, then I'll discharge you from MI6.'  
  
Ashleigh gave a gasp of pain as her hands slipped, the edge of the envelope slicing quickly into the soft pad of her finger. 'Sir?' she protested.  
  
'Before you try and sue me for unfair dismissal, I suggest you continue to listen to me. This is the matter of the utmost importance. If this man is terminated then we lose an extremely important contact. But there is more than that,' M's voice softened, and dropped to a hushed whisper. 'You and I stand to lose someone, that for some strange reason or another, we both care about. Open the envelope, Ashleigh.'  
  
Puzzled, but intrigued, Ashleigh slid her finger under the seal and tore the envelope open. There were a series of documents inside, along with several photographs. She tilted them towards the window so she could see them in the harsh glare of the streetlights.  
  
M watched as the blood drained from the younger woman's face. After several moments, Ashleigh slowly laid the photographs on the seat between them.  
  
'I don't want anything more to do with that man.'  
  
'That's a shame,' M said lightly, examining the top photo. 'Because he certainly wanted to see you again.'  
  
'You've seen him?' There could be no denying the way her face lit up.  
  
'Three days ago.'  
  
'And he asked for me? He definitely asked for me?'  
  
M paused. It would be wrong to mislead her. But at the same time, if it made Ashleigh more agreeable to the idea then surely a small white lie would be forgiven in the greater scheme of things. 'Yes. He asked for you.'  
  
Ashleigh couldn't hold back her smile. Frightened what she might admit to if she opened her mouth, she simply sat and watched the strangely empty streets of Westminster as they slipped past.  
  
The smile faded suddenly. 'I still don't understand one thing, sir. Why will you discharge me if I accept this?'  
  
'Our mutual friend is a law onto himself, as I'm sure you know. While he is co-operating now, and has agreed to co-operate in the future, I want to make sure that he sticks to his side of the agreement. A constant MI6 presence should do that. I need more than just surveillance though. I need someone who knows him. Someone who can get close to him.'  
  
'You're asking me to spy on him,' Ashleigh said in an appalled whisper. 'I can't do that. I won't do that.'  
  
'I will be discharging you officially from MI6. Unofficially, you will be working directly for me. If I give you an order, you will obey it.' The coldness in M's tone left little room for argument. 'Your complete orders are contained within that envelope, along with your travel documents.'  
  
'Yes, sir.' Ashleigh glanced down at the envelope, the stark whiteness stained by a smear of blood from her finger, and then outside once more. They were no longer in the heart of the city, but travelling north through increasingly suburban streets. Streets that Ashleigh was beginning to recognise.  
  
'It's quite simple,' M continued in her brisk, efficient tone. 'If you accept the assignment, then you'll proceed in accordance with your orders. However, if you present yourself in my office at 8am on Monday morning, then I shall immediately recommend that you begin your assessment for 00 status.'  
  
'So if I'm not there...'  
  
'Then I'll accept that as your official resignation from the service.'  
  
They had stopped. Confused, Ashleigh saw they were on her street. 'Oh,' she murmured.  
  
'You have time to consider your options. Choose carefully, Kain.'  
  
'Yes, sir.' She seemed to remember something. 'What will I tell James?'  
  
The question threw M, a sensation she didn't enjoy. She had hoped that Bond's name would not come up in the conversation. 'Whatever you want to tell him. Or, if you prefer, I could have a word in our dear 007's ear.'  
  
Ashleigh nodded slowly. 'There's so much to do...' Her voice trailed off, and she stared blankly into the distance. 'So much to explain...'  
  
'Ashleigh?' For a second, M wondered if she'd done the right thing. The girl simply seemed overwhelmed. At the sound of her name, Ashleigh jumped slightly, and seemed to come back to reality.  
  
'Sorry, sir. Goodnight, sir.'  
  
She snatched up the photographs, and then fumbled for the door handle.  
  
A hand on her arm stopped her. She turned slowly.  
  
'You've been alone for too long, Ashleigh. I'm giving you a chance to be happy. It's up to you if you take it.'  
  
There seemed very little Ashleigh could say to that, even less so in her increasingly confused state. It seemed sensible to fall back on the simplest reply.  
  
'Yes, sir.'  
  
Inside, Ashleigh walked into the kitchen. Carefully she placed the envelope on the table, before reaching for a glass.  
  
Her hand shook as she reached for the cold tap. Outside the trees in her garden swayed gently back and forth.  
  
Water poured over the rim of the glass into the sink.  
  
She didn't notice.


	41. Chapter Thirty Nine

**5.13am GMT.  
**  
Richard Hargreaves pondered over his future at the company. His figures were down for the third month in a row, and still plummeting. He stood at his study window on the first floor of his suburban townhouse. It was still dark outside. He had woken early again, and it disturbed him. It was happening with disturbing frequency.  
  
He had meant to be getting on with some well overdue paper work, but headlights outside had caught his attention. A black cab was stopped in the middle of the street.  
  
He watched as the door to number 39 opened, and the young woman that lived there stepped out, wheeling a suitcase behind her. She seemed to be wrestling with her set of keys, and he saw her remove one, and post it back through the letter box with a fixed look of determination on her face.  
  
As she turned, she saw the light on at his window. Lifting a hand she waved at him.  
  
He thought her name was Emily. She kept herself to herself, but seemed friendly enough. Hesitantly he waved back.  
  
'What on earth are you doing up so early?' a sleep voice asked behind him.  
  
He turned, and saw his wife Sandra standing there, wiping sleep from her eyes.  
  
'Thinking,' he answered gruffly.  
  
She paused, sensing there was something more. 'Come downstairs, and we'll have a coffee or something. Before you wake the children up.'  
  
He nodded his agreement. Glancing out of the window he saw the red lights of the cab flicker on as it turned the corner at the end of the avenue.  
  
**5:14am. GMT.  
**  
'Was it Heathrow you wanted, love?'  
  
'Please.'  
  
'Off anywhere exciting?'  
  
She gave a wicked, excited grin that he saw in his rear view mirror.  
  
'I certainly hope so.'  
  
**7.39 am. GMT  
**  
M believed in self restraint. Which was why she was refusing to look at a clock, despite the fact that there were three in her office.  
  
She opened the first file that lay on her desk commanding her attention.  
  
She had been sitting there for an hour and a half. She had just over twenty minutes to wait, or so she thought. No, she wouldn't look.  
  
Before she could change her mind, she jabbed the button for the intercom.  
  
'Moneypenny? When Agent Kain gets here, send her in immediately.'  
  
'Yes, sir.' Moneypenny's slightly tinny voice echoed in M's office.  
  
Thank heavens for Moneypenny, M thought and not for the first time. No matter how strange the order, she always obeyed with out question.  
  
It was time to work. Tapping her pen against the desk, she began to read.  
  
**7.57am. GMT.  
**  
For Daniel Abelman, it had been a productive morning already. His shares were all up, the FTSE was healthy, and he had converted a superb try yesterday morning at his rugby club.  
  
The only bad thing had been Ashleigh's downright refusal to come and watch.  
  
Damn it, so what if it was raining? It had never bothered her before.  
  
'Your coffee, Mr. Abelman,' there was a knock at the door to his office.  
  
He looked up and saw the pretty new temp standing there. She was slim, petite, with, gently curling chestnut hair that fell to her narrow shoulders. She smiled shyly, revealing a dimple in her left cheek.  
  
'Thank you, Pippa,' he nodded at her. She flushed with evident pleasure at the fact he had remembered her name.  
  
As she sauntered out, he shot a reluctant glance her way. Definitely pretty, and all too willing. If only all women could be like that. What was it with Ashleigh lately anyway? She hadn't returned his phone calls all week. Was this some sort of strange, playing hard to get woman thing? He wished she'd get over whatever it was.  
  
He'd known her for nearly six years and she still confused the hell out of him.  
  
Checking his emails, his eye fell onto one marked personal. To his surprise he saw it was from Ashleigh's home account. He checked the time and frowned, strange she would be sending it so late at night.  
  
The words were there, but they didn't seem to be making sense.  
  
A transfer, an office abroad, temporary at first, but with the option to become permanent. Too good an opportunity to pass up, flattered that she had been asked.  
  
Could he please try to understand?  
  
Her career was important to her. Would have liked to have made things work between them, but she couldn't let this slip by.  
  
Apparently she 'felt terrible' about it all.  
  
Well so did he. He scanned the email again.  
  
She'd be in contact as soon as she could, but things could be difficult for a while.  
  
In other words, he thought bitterly, don't hold your breath, Dan.  
  
Coffee sloshed onto the desk as he slammed his cup down.  
  
'The bitch,' he growled through gritted teeth.  
  
But... wouldn't he have done the same thing? Damn her, but Ashleigh had always been as ambitious as he had. Why hadn't she mentioned this before?  
  
All top secret he supposed. She worked for a goddamn exporting agency, and yet she absolutely refused to discuss it. What the hell was she doing? Supplying terrorists?  
  
She'd gone.  
  
The realisation was beginning to sink in. Slowly he placed his head in his hands.  
  
He had a horrible feeling he was actually going to miss her.  
  
**8.00am GMT**.  
  
M looked up at the clock.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Of course, there was always the remotest possibility that the clocks could be fast.  
  
**8.24am.  
**  
There could be no doubt now. There was no need to check the internal workings of the clocks.  
  
There was a loud bang outside her office door, and M looked up in surprise.  
  
'James! James, no!'  
  
M took a deep breath, and walked to the door.  
  
**8:26am GMT**.  
  
'Let me go, Moneypenny,' Bond warned, placing his hands firmly on the redhead's shoulders. A pile of books lay scattered around his feet, swept off the desk in one violent action.  
  
His cold blue eyes were boring into hers, his strong hands so close to embracing her, she could feel the heat coming from his body, the tension in his muscles, and she caught her breath, distracted by her own senses as they fought to take in every detail, if he were to just lean in now...  
  
She suddenly remembered what she was supposed to be doing, and throwing her weight against him, she struggled to hold him back.  
  
'James, you can't go in, not without M's express permission. James!'  
  
His eyes were wild, and for a horrid second she thought he was going to lash out at her. 'James?' she whispered.  
  
Her fright must have calmed him, because suddenly he stepped back.  
  
'I must see her,'  
  
'I'll have to ask her,'  
  
'Then ask.'  
  
'There's no need.' The door opened, and M stood there. She stepped back, and gestured inside. 'James.'  
  
**8:27am GMT  
**  
'Ashleigh's desk.'  
  
'You wanted to see me about a piece of office furniture?'  
  
'They're clearing it. Why?'  
  
M paused. Outside the window she could see a barge sailing down the Thames.  
  
'She no longer needs it, 007.'  
  
It wasn't the comforting answer he wanted. His hands slammed down onto the desk. 'What the hell has happened to her? Where is she?' the blood rushed from his face. 'She's not...'  
  
'No, James, she's not. She's fine.'  
  
'Then where is she?'  
  
M had never seen Bond like this before. There was an aura of panic around him, circumstances were slipping beyond his control, and one of the few people he cared about had vanished.  
  
There was no need to prolong the agony. But there was also no need to mention Alec Trevelyan's name in relation to any of it.  
  
**8:42am GMT**  
  
James stepped from M's office with a grim look on his face. 'So she's gone?'  
  
Moneypenny glanced up. 'It was her choice to take the assignment.'  
  
'I thought she wanted 00 status.'  
  
'She could never have coped with it, James. Hasn't she had enough death in her life without having a license to kill? She'll be happier doing this. Ashleigh knows what she is doing.'  
  
James frowned. 'You knew, didn't you?'  
  
She couldn't meet his eyes.  
  
'Would you have told me?' He leant down and tipped her chin up so she was looking directly at him.  
  
'No,' she murmured. 'It would have been against my orders.'  
  
**14:09pm, Local Time, Naples, Italy.  
**  
The blonde haired woman turned to her companion, and smiled. Under the table, hidden by the red and white checked table cloth, she nudged forward a briefcase until it bumped into the other woman's knee. She felt the case being tugged away, and knew the other woman had it. She flicked her platinum blonde hair back over her shoulder and picked up her coffee.  
  
'You must be exhausted by your journey,' she said conversationally. 'Why don't you just relax, and then head out tomorrow night? We could meet about 1am? Its late, but it's the best time to get away from the city.'  
  
'Sounds good to me,' Ashleigh smiled shyly back. She felt a trickle of sweat slip down between her shoulder blades, and sipped the mineral water in front of her gratefully. It was so warm, despite the month.  
  
Her contact was a friendly American agent who had met her at this small café. James would have found her very interesting, and very friendly. She had been working in conjunction with MI6 for a few years now, and was Ashleigh's first point of contact here.  
  
'You have everything you need. Tomorrow night, the usual place.'  
  
'I'll be there.'  
  
Soon. Not long to go now. 


	42. Chapter Forty

In answer to Daughter of Olorin's question - no I have never mentioned Hargreaves before, he just happens to live in the house opposite Ashleigh. I found the last chapter one of the hardest to write (as the six different versions I have saved will testify), and in the end relied on something my creative writing lecturer told me - When you can't look through the eyes of a major character, invent a minor one to describe the events. I did it before with the delivery man at the compound. Very useful technique!  
  
Quite frankly, my Italian is terrible. My fiancé helped me (unknowingly) with the translations. He is now wondering why I want to know how to say 'Place your bets' in Italian. I think he thinks I might be abandoning him to become a croupier in Naples. The idea is very tempting. If anyone does speak Italian, and if I have made a major error, would they please let me know so I can correct it?  
  
Edit: Hoorah! I got one thing right! Thank you to Bea for her help (languages were never my strong point – even English is a bit dodgy at times), and her wonderful translations have replaced my appalling attempts.  
  
The sun was setting over the bay, sending violently coloured streaks across the darkening sky. The temperature was at last dropping below something that could only be described as scorchingly hot, and the heat drained city was beginning to come to life as the stars began to appear high in the sky.  
  
The car pulled to a stop, and the man got out, flanked by two guards. Dark suited, and dark tempered, they were a menacing pair. They waited patiently as the man adjusted his tie, and glanced around at the crowd on the street as if they had been waiting there to welcome him.  
  
He ruled this place. This was his domain.  
  
For just a few hours longer.  
  
With an imperious gesture he beckoned the two men to follow him into the building.  
  
From across the street she watched him. Hidden in the crowd of locals and tourists who were making their way to the clubs and restaurants in the area she was free to watch him to her heart's content. That heart started to pound as she took in the breadth of his shoulders, the length of his legs and the reflection of the dying sun off his flaxen hair. Her brown eyes widened as she took in the size of the men with him, he was tall, but they towered over him.  
  
A smile played across her lips. It wasn't time to make her entrance yet. No that would come later. After she had organised a few final details. With that thought she slipped back into the crowd and away.  
  
He had come here every night for the past week. And many times before that. It was easier to lose himself in the gaming tables then to think seriously about what he was feeling. He didn't feel. It was as simple as that.  
  
So what was that prickle that was creeping up his spine?  
  
He could feel the presence of the two heavies behind him, and it unnerved him. He was a watched man, and he knew the time was close. His hands involuntarily clenched around the chips he held, the cool plastic smooth beneath his palm.  
  
Around him was the chaos and noise that was the popular casino. Based on the lower floor of the hotel it was a place where money talked, and opened doors. This was a place where questions weren't asked and that suited Alec just fine. His icy demeanour, his scarred face, and the two imposing guards kept most away from him, and so he lost himself in the false refuge of solitude.  
  
Roulette was his game of choice.  
  
Choose a colour, or choose a number.  
  
It either came up or it didn't.  
  
He glanced around him. He was alone at this table, a glass in front of him. He picked it up, and sipped cautiously, testing it, tasting it. Perfect. He drank deeply, and then raised a hand to attract attention.  
  
The pretty blonde waitress nodded and took the near empty glass. He watched her carefully, noting the way she ignored everyone else.  
  
She returned quickly, placing the refreshed glass in front of him.  
  
'Thank you,' it was habit rather than politeness.  
  
'You're welcome,' she murmured back.  
  
She had an American accent. And a knowing look.  
  
The tingle threatened to become a shiver. He looked for her again but she was gone.  
  
Unnerved, he glanced at the table before him. It was an all too familiar sight.  
  
His conversation with M had changed things. For once he was looking into the future, and not to the past.  
  
If he lived long enough to appreciate it.  
  
He reached for the glass, and deliberately fumbled it.  
  
Behind him the two heavies noticed the shake in his hand. It wouldn't be the first time they would have watched him drink himself into oblivion. They exchanged a look.  
  
'Fate il voste gioco,' the croupier who had been nervously waiting, decided this was his moment.  
  
Alec contemplated the table in front of him. With a decisive sweep of his hand, he pushed the stack of chips in front of him towards red. It would either come up, or it wouldn't. This time, everything was about luck. Or was it fate? He didn't care either way. Win or lose, it made no difference.  
  
'Altre scomessa?' the young man asked, following the protocol of the table. There would be no other bets; this game was solely for the dark suited scarred man in front of him. There was a sense of great power about the man, and the young croupier was distinctly uncomfortable in his presence.  
  
'Ma si.'  
  
The voice was soft, accented and most definitely female.  
  
Alec stiffened. He caught the scent of a warm, rich perfume, heard the click of a pointed heel upon the floor. He took a drink, refusing to acknowledge their presence.  
  
'Tavolo privato,' one of the guards growled, alert and defensive.  
  
Alec turned his head just enough to catch a glimpse of black satin, blending into tailored black trousers. Pale hands loosely clutched a small bag.  
  
She waited. He heard the impatient tap of her foot.  
  
'Let her.'  
  
The words were said so softly she hardly heard them.  
  
'Sei nero.' A handful of chips were thrown onto the black number six space.  
  
If the choice of number unnerved Alec, he refused to let her see it.  
  
'I giochi sonofatti.'  
  
No more bets.  
  
The little white ball danced over the numbers as they blurred into a solid ring. Finally the wheel slowed, the ball made a few last leaps until finally it settled into the red twenty four slot.  
  
All bets were off between them. As usual.  
  
'Vince il signore.' the croupier pushed an increased amount of chips back to Alec.  
  
'You lost,' he said softly.  
  
'Its only money.' There was a trace of humour in the voice. 'There are more important things in the world.'  
  
Her voice was lower than he remembered. He had known it was her from the moment she stepped behind him without fear.  
  
'Such as?' he drawled. He wouldn't make this easy for her.  
  
Her hands were light on his shoulders; her breath warm on his unscarred cheek as she leant against him, felt the brush of her hair against the curve of his ear. 'Is there somewhere we can go? Somewhere private?'  
  
It wasn't quite the offer it seemed. 'Yes.'  
  
The office was high in the building. The room was vast, deliberately imposing; one wall was completely paned with glass lending an outstanding view across the water.  
  
She glanced around, saw the computer, and felt relief wash over her. The age of electronics meant that all the information she carried could be compressed to a thin metal disc, but unfortunately, to retrieve that information the computer would be required. It would have looked suspicious if she had had to ask for one.  
  
Alec watched her as she took in the size of the room, the art work on the walls, the modern, uncomfortable looking chairs, and the huge, intimidating desk. She swept the room with her eyes, and stored the information for later.  
  
He saw her glance at the door, and then immediately look around for another exit. A slight furrow appeared in her brow as she realised there was none. Or rather, none that she could see.  
  
She hadn't changed, he thought, she's still the same. Always watching, always noticing. But there was something in the way she had walked, almost strutted along side him, something in the set of her shoulders. She was more confident than he had ever seen her.  
  
Hardly surprising. Every other time they had met, things had always been going against her. Now she was in control.  
  
She looked like James. The same cool disdain for her surroundings, the same arrogance.  
  
He hated her for it.  
  
When he had known her, she had needed him, clung to him as he had rescued her, nervous, vulnerable, at risk.  
  
He wanted her like that again.  
  
He scowled as she stalked across the room, dropping the bag with a thud onto the desk. Her lips curved into a welcoming smile, one that was not lost on the two guards.  
  
'Have you missed me?' she purred, picking up a glass paperweight and rolling it in her hands, her dark eyes never leaving his.  
  
He froze. Had he missed her? The honest answer screamed yes, but he would never admit it.  
  
She was staring at him with an intensity that almost burned. He thought he saw a plea there, in her eyes. Please, she seemed to say, please...  
  
Her expression shifted. The smile dropped, and she seemed to pout, she scowled, and slammed the paperweight down on the table.  
  
'Why didn't you call me?' she whined, 'You said when you were settled you would send for me. I've been waiting all this time, and you haven't. You're not playing fair! I've missed you, and you just left me to ... to rot! Rot in some godforsaken and stupidly cold country!'  
  
She looked moments away from stamping her foot. The full lower lip jutted out even further.  
  
And then, then he realised. As the tiny ache in the back of his head began to thud, he realised where he had heard that tone before, heard those same accusing words thrown at him. The same words that caused that tension headache to throb somewhere deep behind his eyes.  
  
The women he had used, the women who had become used to power that being his lover had gained, the women that would insist on gifts, on tokens of his affection, those women that whined and needled, and grated on his very nerves. The women he dropped as soon as they had served their purpose.  
  
She may snarl, and fight like a wildcat, but Ashleigh would never whine at him. She was too stubborn, too proud. This was some kind of charade. And it needed a response.  
  
'I haven't had the time,' he growled at her.  
  
'But you promised!' Her eyes widened. 'Who is she? What... what slut has got her claws into you this time?'  
  
'One who isn't so demanding on my time as you.'  
  
Flippant, arrogant, spiteful. Oh, the old Alec would have been proud.  
  
She gave a shriek of rage, and picked up the heavy paperweight again. He ducked just in time as it shattered on the wall behind him. She scrabbled around on the desk, looking for something else to throw.  
  
He nodded at the two heavies. With almost indecent enthusiasm, they started forward. She struggled, not as much as she might if she wasn't acting, but finally, they overpowered her, grabbing one arm each and holding her back.  
  
'Call your guard dogs off me, you bastard!' she snarled, trying to kick the one holding her right arm. 'Call them off, before I neuter them!'  
  
'Temper, temper,' he chided, moving towards her. She kicked out at him this time, one high heel coming too close to his shin bone for his liking. Acting or not, Ashleigh still had a good aim, and a good knowledge of where to hurt.  
  
'I hate you!'  
  
'Oh, I don't think you do,' he tilted her chin up, sliding his hand under her jaw. He felt her tremble, and didn't know if she meant to or not. 'Why don't you start playing nicely, and see what happens?'  
  
He spoke as if to a child, except his words were slurring slightly and she nodded. 'Okay.'  
  
'Let her go,' he ordered.  
  
Reluctantly they did so, and he saw the red marks on her bare arms where they had held her. She rubbed them angrily, before she looked away. 'I'm sorry,' she murmured softly. 'I've just missed you so much, and I just wanted to be with you.'  
  
His kiss caught her by surprise. He pulled her into his embrace, holding her tightly, forcing his lips down onto hers. Her eyes widened with shock, she tensed, rigid in his arms, but finally, she relaxed, her arms slid round his neck, and she kissed back just as fiercely, closing her eyes and letting herself cling to him.  
  
It worked. He heard an uncomfortable cough, a throat being cleared just loud enough to gain attention.  
  
He broke the kiss just long enough to snarl 'Get out of here. Now!'  
  
The heavies had seen it all before. These men with their weakness for attractive women. The women with a desire for power, and wealth. It was a stupidly dangerous combination, but they all fell for it. Even this scarred man they had been ordered to stay with. Not that this woman seemed to mind the scars at all. He was rich enough, they supposed, for them not to matter to her.  
  
They could wait outside. These two would be occupied for some time.  
  
Alec heard the door open, then shut. He opened his eyes. They were alone. Yet he didn't loosen his grip on the woman he was holding.  
  
He felt her pull away, and reluctantly he let her go.  
  
Gone was the whining, demanding girl, instead with a quick cool efficiency she turned, and walked to the desk.  
  
'Yours?' she asked, gesturing around the room with one hand while the other rummaged in her bag.  
  
'Mine.'  
  
She glanced at him. His accent had become crisper; his voice had lost the slurred element that had bothered her since she had first heard him. 'All of it?'  
  
'Yes.'  
  
M had been right then. Alec did still have legitimate businesses, and this hotel appeared to be one of them. 'For you,' she held out a slim case. The disc inside caught the light.  
  
'M?'  
  
'Yes. For your eyes only.'  
  
He slid the disc into the machine. 'Not even yours?'  
  
She was brisk, business like, once more the consummate agent. 'I have been briefed to the contents, but haven't actually seen them. M did tell me that everything you need to know is contained on that disc. Names, organisations, figures, deals. Hell, even whose bed they've recently crawled out of. You're dealing with extremely dangerous men, Alec.'  
  
'I know.' He stared at the screen.  
  
And swore.  
  
Ashleigh flinched as his fist hit the glass top of the desk. 'You're a marked man,' she guessed, her tone was far more matter of fact than she actually felt.  
  
'Then why are you here?' he snarled.  
  
Her hand slid into the bag once more, and when she pulled it out she held up an identical case. 'On this disc is my first assignment. Sequence after sequence of long, complicated numbers. All in code. It seems I impressed M when I broke the sequence guarding Hermes, and she recalled my talents for cryptography. With the contents of this disc, I could give you the world.'  
  
She paused, and there was a wicked gleam in her eyes. He didn't doubt her words.  
  
'But I'm not going to.'  
  
'Doesn't explain why you're here.'  
  
She glanced nervously at the door. 'I think it does. I need something to keep myself occupied. Now I'm unofficially retired from MI6.'  
  
He looked at her sharply. He knew what she meant. M's offer had been accepted.  
  
She couldn't cope with the way he was looking at her. Turning away she slipped the disc back into the bag, and as she did so her fingers brushed against something else. Cool, thin glass rolled beneath her fingertips, she traced the shape of a small container, and then moved onto the thin rectangular packages.  
  
Do what you have to do, M had told her. Alec Trevelyan was to leave the city alive. It didn't matter in what state, as long as he was alive.  
  
'This is worse than we thought.'  
  
'What?' she snapped out of her thoughts. She couldn't let her concentration slip now.  
  
'Look,' he gestured to the screen.  
  
'Oh, shit,' she swore. 'That would be your informer then?'  
  
He moved so quickly she didn't see him open the drawer but next moment, he had a gun in his hand and was checking the ammunition. 'Are you armed?'  
  
She thought back to the contents of her bag. More than you would ever know, she thought. 'Yes.'  
  
'Good. I'm going to kill him.'  
  
From anyone else it would be an idle threat, but the coldness, and the seriousness of Alec's tone was absolute.  
  
Marco Piancetta. He stood at just less than six feet five, and weighed close to twenty stones. Psychotic tendencies and questionable loyalties. Last known to be in Beijing. Known for brute force rather than mental ability.  
  
Working for an extremely dangerous arms dealer.  
  
The one whose group Alec was attempting to infiltrate. And the man currently standing outside of the door. Ordered to watch Alec like a hawk – before terminating him.  
  
There was a knock at the door. 'How much does he know?' Ashleigh asked, rubbing her arm where Piancetta had held her, with little effort. She shuddered to think what he could do if he decided to make the effort.  
  
'Enough.'  
  
He eased the safety off the gun.  
  
'Wait.' Ashleigh fumbled with her bag. 'We just need enough time to get away. We don't have to kill them.'  
  
'It would be easier,' Alec growled.  
  
She almost dropped the vial, the clear liquid sloshing inside. A sedative, similar to the one that had been used on her during her time in the compound. The incident had given M the idea to provide Ashleigh with the drug.  
  
And three needles.  
  
If necessary, she was to drug Alec, and drag him away. There were those in the hotel that could assist her.  
  
'There's a helicopter,' she rambled, her hand shaking as she tore the protective sterile wrapping from the first hypodermic needle. 'It'll take us from here, it should be here any moment now,' she glanced at the clock and saw that she was right. 'We just have to get to the roof. You know this place; you know how to get there. We just need enough time to get away.'  
  
The first needle pierced through the thin foil of the vial, and she drew the liquid into the syringe. She handed it to him. 'You need to flick it, to break any air bubbles. You'll kill them if you inject them with air.'  
  
'And?'  
  
She flushed as she filled her own needle, but she gave it a defiant flick all the same.  
  
The third syringe waited patiently in her bag. She glanced towards it, and wondered why she was so hesitant to do what M ordered. Alec would come with her, he had no choice. She wouldn't resort to caveman tactics.  
  
There was a second knock, harder than before. Alec gestured her next to the door, and she pressed herself against the wall.  
  
'I'll take Piancetta. You take the other.'  
  
She slid her hand around the door handle. Her entire body was tensed, the hypodermic held awkwardly in her left hand.  
  
He nodded, she turned the handle.  
  
And all hell broke loose. 


	43. Chapter Forty One

Sorry for the evil cliffhanger. I wish I could say it was a deliberate plot device and not the realisation that I was supposed to have been in work five minutes ago....  
  
It's my birthday today. As a present to myself I allowed myself to indulge in some ATAK related drabble – to be posted on my LJ soon. As soon as I work out the ending.  
  
You can find my LJ user name in my profile.  
  
I'll edit this as soon as its up.  
  
Nearing the end now. Poor Alec and Ashleigh. Poor James. What am I going to do with them all?  
  
Chapter 41  
  
For the past few weeks, Marco Piancetta had watched as the scarred man, Janus, had drank himself steadily into a stupor every night. He would stumble against Piancetta, sometimes muttering, sometimes just laughing manically.  
  
He understood that the man had once been the ultimate power in Russia. Now he was nothing. Nothing but a double crossing spy. Piancetta despised him, and longed for the day when he would receive the order to dispose of him. That day had come at long last.  
  
This Janus spoke with a clear, cold English accent, and had shadowed green eyes. The right side of his face was criss-crossed with scars that crept down his jaw, and beneath the collar of his shirt. He was strong, there was no denying that, and Piancetta suspected that he could move with some speed if it was needed.  
  
Of course, that would be if he didn't have such a dependence on the iced vodka he drank most nights. His reactions would be slow, his mind addled with alcohol.  
  
It would be easy. Almost too easy.  
  
It was this thought that reverberated through Piancetta's head as he watched the door open a crack.  
  
He threw his weight against it and it exploded inwards.  
  
To his left, he saw a sudden movement and swung out with a huge arm. He felt it connect, and heard the thud of a body hitting the floor.  
  
He stopped short.  
  
The man he called Janus, Alec Trevelyan stood tall and straight before him. His body was turned to one side, but cold green, sober eyes stared at him, with death in their depths. This was a man in control, and with a sudden rush of realisation, Piancetta knew that he had been deceived. This was no drunk, but a ruthless, powerful man.  
  
The hand that held the gun was steady. Piancetta stared down the cold, still barrel of the gun.  
  
He could hear struggling behind him. He wanted to turn, but instead he faced his death.  
  
The door had opened so suddenly, Ashleigh barely had had time to move back. Piancetta had stormed in, with such an evil look on his face that for a moment Ashleigh had frozen with fear.  
  
Close up, the man was huge. He was at least a foot taller than she was, and twice as wide. His suit was well made, but strained over his bulk; his dark hair was cropped close to his head emphasising the brutality of his face.  
  
Alec had said he would take him out. But the opportunity was there for Ashleigh to take.  
  
She had seen the dark skin of his short neck exposed above the overly tight collar of his shirt, and she had known that he hadn't seen her. He was focused on Alec, and she knew that he would kill him if she didn't do something and soon. She had thrown herself forward in a huge leap, the hypodermic needle in her hand, brandished like a dagger.  
  
Precision hadn't been necessary.  
  
His fist and lower arm had connected with the side of her face, snapping her head back, and throwing her to the ground. The pain exploded through her skull. Dazed she lay sprawled on the floor waiting for the next blow.  
  
Her left eye was watering; she could feel the tender tissues beginning to swell, effectively sealing her eye up. She gasped as her fingers found the bruising and her vision blurred as her right eye began to well up from the pain. She tried to brush the tears away.  
  
The second man entered the room, having not seen the gun yet. He stepped casually over the woman lying on the floor, then froze as he saw Piancetta's predicament. It didn't take long for him to realise that he was in a desperately bad situation. The pair of the might be heavier and stronger than Janus, but unless they could find some way to draw their weapons, they were definitely at a disadvantage.  
  
His foot was inches away from Ashleigh's head. She was still holding the syringe, and with a cry of rage, she slammed it into the man's leg, her thumb clumsily forcing the entire syringe worth of the drug into his body.  
  
She scrambled away; huddling against the nearest wall as the man grabbed his leg. He was swarthy and dark like Piancetta, and his face darkened as more blood rushed to his face.  
  
Whatever was in the sedative worked quickly, and with a gargled moan, the man collapsed forward and hit the ground like a ton of bricks.  
  
She stood, one hand clutching her face. Piancetta risked a glance in her direction.  
  
'Puttana,' he growled at her.  
  
Whore. A common enough insult, and hardly original enough to hurt. Her face hurt though, from her temple to her chin, the entire left side of her face ached.  
  
She scowled painfully at him. Reaching out, she took the second syringe from where Alec had left it on the desk. 'Keep him still.' The coldness of her tone told of her intent.  
  
Anywhere would do.  
  
'Leave him,' Alec snarled, a trace of worry in his voice.  
  
'No.' The neck would have done for the first time, it would do now. She stared the Italian down. 'Touch me, and he'll kill you.'  
  
Piancetta glanced nervously at Alec who smiled coldly, and adjusted his grip on the gun.  
  
A united front was needed.  
  
It was a huge bluff to make. With Ashleigh so close to Piancetta, Alec wouldn't get a clear shot for risk of hitting her instead.  
  
Piancetta knew it.  
  
He moved quickly, but he hadn't expected her to fight back. He had thought her to be a mere woman, the scarred man's mistress. Now she was a she-devil who writhed and scratched in his grip. He moved to grab her head, but she didn't hesitate, the next moment she had sank her teeth into his hand.  
  
His shout of pain would have woken the dead, she thought, as he threw her bodily away from him. She staggered, found her balance and moved quickly, trying to dodge his grip, trying to duck around him, and just inject him. He saw the needle in her hand, had seen the effect it had had on his partner, and decided that he wasn't going to suffer the same fate.  
  
She struggled, trying to hold her own, but he seriously outweighed her, and she couldn't stop him. Moving with a speed that surprised her he stretched for her hands, trapping them, grabbing both of her wrists, and with a textbook move, he hooked a leg around her ankle and with a sharp kick, sent both of them crashing to the floor.  
  
The air was forced from her lungs as he crashed onto her chest, pinning her, it was like being crushed, he was heavy, so heavy, and so intent on hurting her. She tried to struggle but his legs pinned her, his body was a dead weight on hers, she couldn't breathe...  
  
It was the move that Alec had been waiting for. Unable to open fire, he had watched helplessly. The moment he saw Piancetta's heavy bulk crash down onto Ashleigh's slim form he had sprinted forward. He could see her trying to struggle and knew she could never break free by herself.  
  
The syringe fell from her grasp. Surreptitiously he scooped it up, concealing it in his jacket.  
  
The blow he struck to the back of Piancetta's thick neck would have felled a normal sized man, but Piancetta only grunted in surprise. He caught a glimpse of Ashleigh's brown eyes, one half closed and already bruising up, and knew that she was ready to fight as soon as the moment came.  
  
He grabbed the back of the man's shoulders, and gave a mighty heave, at the same time Ashleigh pushed up, hitting out with both her hands and legs and the combined effort threw Piancetta backwards.  
  
'No!' Ashleigh screamed, but it was too late, as Piancetta hit the ground, Alec turned, gun at the ready and with lightening precision took aim, and fired.  
  
The shot echoed through the building.  
  
The bullet embedded itself straight into the centre of Piancetta's forehead as he lay sprawled on the ground. He crashed to the ground, his head hitting the floor with a meaty thud, his body shuddered once, twice, and then there was nothing but his eyes staring unseeing at the ceiling.  
  
'Oh god,' Ashleigh moaned, as she stared at the body. She was crouched on the floor, and she felt nausea swamp her. It was too reminiscent of Deronda's lifeless body, the same blackened hole in the middle of otherwise smooth skin, but this time blood poured from it to pool in his hair, to trickle down the side of the olive skin. 'Oh god, oh god.'  
  
She buried her head in her arms. She had seen him kill before, but that time he had shot a man that moments before had been prepared to beat her to death.  
  
There was a cold brutality to Alec, a cruelty in him that she found frightening. He had killed without remorse, for a second time in front of her. She trembled.  
  
She felt him touch her, felt the warmth of his hands on the bare skin of her arms.  
  
'Don't!' she howled, pushing him away violently. 'Just don't!'  
  
'Ash,' he whispered, trying to pull her towards him.  
  
'You didn't have to kill him!' she raged, trying to stop herself from lashing out at him. Trying to move away from him, to get away from him.  
  
'Yes, I did.' Reaching down, he pulled her to her feet, wrapping her in a tight embrace. She was shaking, but she let him. 'He'd have done the same to me, or to you. I had no choice.'  
  
He did have a choice, of course, he knew that, it was just sometimes it was easier to remove a target before they removed you. But if the thought calmed her...  
  
He was warm, and strong, and she found herself breathing in the cool scent of his cologne, warmed by his skin, and softened as the hours had passed. How many times had she thought of this moment over the weeks? How much had she wanted this? Her body, traitorous to the end, melted against his. She relented, wrapping her arms around him, and he pulled her even tighter, his chin brushing the top of her head. He must be wearing a watch, she thought dazed as his arms tightened round her she felt a scratch on her arm.  
  
It had happened so quickly. Death had come so quickly; one minute he had been alive, the next dead, the sound of the shot still ringing in her ears...  
  
She jerked in his arms, pushing him away, panicking, and she tried to ignore the cooling body on the floor.  
  
'Why the hell couldn't you have used a silencer?' she hissed, slamming her hands against his chest, remembering the loudness of the shot as it had fired.  
  
He blanched as he realised his mistake. For once the cool demeanour dropped, and he shot a glance at the crumpled body. The entire hotel would have heard the shot. 'We have to leave. Now.'  
  
She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was 0:53am. Seven minutes to go. She nodded. 'The roof.'  
  
He stepped over the unconscious body of the second man, kicking him out of the way so he could open the door. Outside it was clear.  
  
'He was unarmed,' Ashleigh muttered. 'I mean, he had a weapon, but he didn't pull it. Why?'  
  
Alec paused. 'He thought I was an easy target. Thought I would be so drunk that I wouldn't put up much of a fight. It's so easy to mistake water for vodka, and your American friend did a very good job of helping me keep up that charade tonight.'  
  
She swallowed. Piancetta would have killed Alec without a second thought; Alec had simply killed him first. She tried to find comfort in that rationalisation. It was difficult. 'We had better go.'  
  
They ran from the room, turning left. 'There's a service elevator and staircase at the end of the next corridor,' Alec gestured. 'From there we can make it to the roof.'  
  
They were half down the corridor, and so far unnoticed when she suddenly cried 'Wait!'  
  
She turned, meaning to head back to the room they had come from, but he was too quick, grabbing her arm, and pulling her viciously back.  
  
'Let me go!' she snapped, trying to prise his fingers away. 'I have to go back.'  
  
'If you want a bullet in your head like our dear friend back there, then I will do it myself and save them the effort. They'll be looking for us, and they won't hesitate to kill you. Do you understand that? Do you want them to kill you?'  
  
His voice was raising with every word, and with a sudden, quick gesture he twisted his wrist back and pressed the barrel of the gun to her temple, emphasising his point. She flinched, knowing how easily he could do it, but stood her ground. 'Do you want them to know where we are going? Do you want them to know how we found out? You left the disc behind!'  
  
He cursed, realising she was right. 'Go, but be quick.'  
  
She fumbled with the door, and shot inside. She appeared moments later, tucking the disc into her bag.  
  
'They're coming,' he hissed, hearing the sound of shouting voices from the floor below. He glanced up and down as if expecting them to burst in at any moment.  
  
'One more thing...' she muttered, and reaching down she slipped the heeled shoes from her feet. 'I'll be able to run faster without them.' She threw them back down the corridor, and in her bare feet sprinted forward.  
  
They crashed through the door of the service stairwell just as the main door to the floor opened.  
  
She glanced up seeing flight upon flight of stairs above her. She was slowing, tiring; she felt his hand on the base of her back.  
  
'Keep moving,' he ordered, not unkindly.  
  
'I am!' she protested, but each step was slower, harder to take.  
  
Her arm was stinging and she remembered the scratch from earlier; brushing her fingers against it she saw a small smear of blood. 'Strange,' she murmured. 'I'm bleeding.'  
  
He gave her an undignified push forward. 'It will wait, Ash, we're nearly there, look.'  
  
She did, and she saw a door ahead. He helped her forward, pushing her through and into the chill of the night. 'There!'  
  
Sweeping through the night she saw a single helicopter making its way towards them. The bright lights were harsh on her bruised eye, and she blinked painfully.  
  
'Over here!' a voice cried, and they saw Gina, the pretty blonde American making her way towards them. She was still in her waiting uniform, bent double as the helicopter swept closer and the gusts from the blades surrounded them. 'Quickly!'  
  
'What the hell happened to you?' she asked as she ran up to them. She took in the rapidly blackening eye, and the bruised cheek bone.  
  
'Hit,' Ashleigh muttered, as she swayed on her feet. She wanted to say more, but the words wouldn't form, she couldn't think straight.  
  
Her arm, Alec was clutching her arm, she had been bleeding. She glanced down. On her left arm there was a smear of blood. She wiped it away and saw the needle mark there, the scratch where it had caught her.  
  
'What?' she frowned. She glanced up at Alec, and saw a flicker of guilt in his eyes before he looked away.  
  
'Unfair, Alec,' she murmured, before tilting back into his waiting arms.  
  
'She's gone?' Gina clicked her fingers in front of Ashleigh's face. 'Good, it was about time.'  
  
'It was more difficult than I thought.' Alec struggled to get Ashleigh into a position from which he could lift her. 'Help me.'  
  
Gina grabbed Ashleigh's feet as the door to the helicopter slid open. Together they lifted her in, and Alec climbed up after her.  
  
'You know what, its times like this I'm glad I'm American,' Gina shouted above the roar of the blades, as she glanced at Ashleigh's unconscious form.  
  
'Why do you say that?'  
  
'Well, at least I know I'm only in danger from my enemies,' she grinned, 'and not my own superiors! Take care of her!'  
  
With that she helped to slide the door shut.  
  
It was awkward work strapping Ashleigh into the seat, she murmured in her sleep, and tried to bat his hands away, but finally she was secure.  
  
He settled back into his seat, feeling her comforting weight leaning against him. Her hair brushed against the side of his neck as she shifted in her sleep.  
  
She was going to be upset when she woke up, but there was nothing he could really do about that.  
  
She had had her orders.  
  
He had had his.  
  
And he had followed them to the letter. 


	44. Chapter Forty Two

After this there is only two more chapters to go, and I think I am rather sad to see the end of this. Ashleigh is a character I am very proud of, I had no idea what she was like when I started this, but the fact that people (well, most) out there actually want her to be happy, and end up with Alec is something I could never have anticipated. In fact, I rather thought there would be an outcry of rage – how dare she take our Alec and all that.   
  
I don't think I want this to end, but it has to at some point, but I certainly haven't run out of ideas yet. So please enjoy this chapter.  
  
In other news, the drabble I promised is now up on my LJ – you can find it through my profile. If you're reading this in the future, you can find it by searching under ATAK in my memories. Its called 'ATAK: October 28th.' I hope you all enjoy it

* * *

Chapter Forty Two  
  
At some point, Ashleigh felt herself being lifted for a second time. She had struggled briefly, trying to fight through the haze that surrounded her, but it had been too strong, and instead she decided it would be simpler just to fall back into her dreams.  
  
She was going away again. But she was tired, and it would just be better to sleep. She was warm and comfortable and there was the sweet smell of cologne in the air.  
  
Alec glanced across the plane at the sleeping form of the woman. The drug hadn't been administrated properly, and only a small amount had entered her blood stream. She hadn't slipped into unconsciousness; instead she was merely sleeping lightly, but experiencing brief moments of lucidity. This had been her longest time asleep; she hadn't woken since they had lifted her from the helicopter to the waiting jet.   
  
Alec knew that M had ordered Ashleigh to drug him if needs be. He had been alarmed by the prospect, until M had assured him that Ashleigh would never do that. She wouldn't want to hurt him in any way. No, Ashleigh had hoped that she might simply smile at him and he would follow obediently.   
  
He might have done, had he not had his own orders.  
  
There had been a possibility that she might, M had admitted, but M had been certain that the Ashleigh Kain she knew would not be able to do it. Ashleigh's sense of honour would restrain her from doing.  
  
Alec's hand had subconsciously stroked his cheekbone where she had hit him last time they had seen each other. He had wondered if Ashleigh's sense of revenge was anywhere as strong as his, and if so, whether her sense of honour might be pushed to one side in favour of the satisfaction of having him completely at her mercy?  
  
Apparently not.  
  
Ashleigh had thought that they would be met by the American contact, and that they would be taken to an airfield before being transferred elsewhere.  
  
She had thought perhaps back to Russia.   
  
M, on the other hand, had had other ideas.   
  
Knowing Alec had no such scruples; she had ordered him to drug Ashleigh. They would follow the same plan, but the final location was known only to him, and to M.   
  
He had protested at first. This was a situation where he knew he had to attempt to be honest about his feelings. He cared about the girl, and had seen her hurt before. He didn't think that he could ever physically harm her himself. He had tried to put these strange and unfamiliar thoughts, these feelings into words, refusing to meet M's eyes as he had done so, but M had been adamant. The drug was nothing more than a sedative. She would feel woozy and disorientated when she woke up, but she would wake up, and she would feel nothing during the effects of the chemical, and none afterwards. Ashleigh was not to know where they where or how they had travelled there. It was the final piece of security.  
  
Alec knew his place and had not questioned why.   
  
M knew that Alec still had enemies in this world, who would relish the opportunity to be the one who could claim to have terminated Janus. And if they knew that MI6 was protecting him? M shuddered to think.  
  
It was more than just security from his enemies. She had left strict instructions to Ashleigh not to tell anyone where she was going. And that included her godfather. Yet M wondered if Ashleigh would tell James. If James knew that she had gone to be with Alec, then M had no doubt that James would track them down. And James could be far more vengeful than any enemy. There was no doubt that James took their relationship to be a direct attack on him. Alec was obviously using Ashleigh to infuriate him, and Ashleigh simply hadn't grown out of her teenage rebellious streak just yet. There could be nothing more between them than that.   
  
She couldn't allow that to happen. She had carefully orchestrated every last detail of this... this liaison, and she would not allow a pig headed 007 to destroy everything in a fit of sudden pseudo-parental outrage.   
  
So she had informed Alec that Ashleigh would be carrying the sedatives, and he was to find the first opportunity he could to get her under control.  
  
Their meeting had ended awkwardly. As the sun began to sink lower in the sky, she had turned to him, and clasped his hand in her own, in something more than the perfunctory handshake they usually shared.  
  
'Take care of her,' she had said before she could bite the words back.  
  
He had looked surprised, but suddenly, brilliantly, a rare smile had appeared on his dark features. 'Always.'  
  
Always.   
  
As the plane began its descent, Alec thought back to the word. Always, forever... until the end of time.   
  
He stared at her, the ruffled crop of her hair, tousled and falling over her sleeping face, lips parted slightly to let her breathe in soft sighs, one bare arm thrown out from beneath the blanket he had covered her with. A pale, shoeless foot streaked with dirt that had slipped out to point at the floor. On her bare arm he could see a scar, the healing skin still tinged with pink, two inches long. Knife wound he guessed, by the clean edges of the cut, or glass, something sharp plunged quickly into the skin and dragged down by the force of the thrust.   
  
Her foot twitched, she muttered something in her sleep, a frown creasing her face, and he held his breath, waiting to see if she woke. Not this time, the frown smoothed away and she slept once more.   
  
She had given up everything for him.   
  
The thought unsettled him.   
  
When Ashleigh woke, she had no idea where she was. Her throat was dry, her head pounded, and she felt distinctly groggy. She was lying in a large, comfortable bed, the covers pulled up over her, but otherwise undisturbed. The room was simple, obviously a bedroom, and she lifted her head slowly up to see her surroundings better.   
  
She wished she hadn't. Her head threatened to implode, and she gingerly traced the outline of her eye. Her fingers met tender, swollen skin, and she winced, and then regretted the gesture as the bruise began to throb. She didn't want to think what her eye looked like.   
  
She slumped back into the pillow and fought back sleep. The temptation was still there, the light headedness was just waiting to overwhelm her, but with immense self control she finally managed to sit up.  
  
It was a mistake. There was something in the air that combined with the grogginess made her stomach turn. Salt, sea salt, carried in on a light breeze through the French doors. They were near the coast, she decided, but where?  
  
One side of the room was lined with glass doors. Through the thin layer of muslin that covered them she could see a darkening sky, and a thin crescent moon rising.   
  
She had been out longer than she thought, almost an entire twenty four hours, it had been 1am when they had run onto the roof...   
  
The helicopter had been coming for them. To take them away. She had been confused. Ashleigh struggled to recall exactly what had happened, there had been a fight, they had escaped, she had felt a pain in her arm and realised...  
  
Alec.  
  
Alec had drugged her.  
  
A knot of anger began to form deep within her and she clenched her fists. She fought to stand, found her legs would just about support her, and tentatively made her way to the doors.   
  
He had been standing on a small terrace, the lower level of which she had just stepped out onto. He had been watching the sun set, watching the last rays as they danced across the sea, watching, and waiting, adjusting to his new life.  
  
'Why?' she asked simply.  
  
He turned. 'I was ordered to.'  
  
She wanted to snap at him, to shout her fury, and make her angry feeling perfectly clear, but her tired mind wasn't working yet, and so she settled for seething quietly.  
  
She padded up the steps, away from the house. It appeared to have been built on the edge of a sheer cliff, overlooking the sea.  
  
'Where are we?'  
  
'Sicily.'  
  
She glanced up at him. In this dim light he looked crueller than ever. 'And this is yours?'  
  
She stared at the low, sprawling villa, painted white, but tinged pink with the dust from the mountains. She felt a sudden longing for her tall, pristine cream townhouse, with the sycamore tree outside.   
  
'Yes.'  
  
She was cold. She was still distinctly under dressed, and she had left her shoes in the hotel. Her feet were filthy, and now were slowly being coated in the pink dust that covered everything. There was complete silence, only the crash of waves below them and Ashleigh got the impression that they were in the hills.   
  
'Does it hurt?' he asked, gesturing at her face.   
  
'Yes.' She wrapped her arms around herself and let her hair fall over her face, trying to hide the bruising. It felt swollen, even talking hurt.   
  
'Would you like some painkillers? I could find some for you.'  
  
'I don't think that's a good idea,' she said coldly. 'After all, I wouldn't want them to react with what you drugged me with.'  
  
The night suddenly seemed to get even colder. He paused, gave a tiny almost imperceptible shrug, and looked away.  
  
Her heart pounded in her chest, as if it was struggling to break free from its bodily restraints. She refused to accept it was his mere presence having this effect on her. No, it was some after effect of the drug, minor heart palpitations or something. As was the dryness in her mouth, and the strange shortness of breath.  
  
She followed his gaze to where it was focused on the horizon. She saw everything and nothing all at once, the ink like waters, the glimmer of light dancing on the waves, and yet none of this registered.   
  
She finally found her voice. 'I – its just...'  
  
She faltered and watched as an early rising gull corkscrewed down towards the water.  
  
'I would have followed you anywhere.'  
  
The words were said, she could never take them back. Her brain screamed at her to shut up, her heart wanted to say more.  
  
And as usual, calm sensible logic won out. She had already let her heart get too involved recently, it was the reason she was standing barefoot in the night, staring at a man who might or might not want her, waiting to see what he would say, and ready to forgive him anything.  
  
Even drugging her against her will.   
  
It was perhaps a bad moment for Ashleigh to discover her inner romantic.   
  
Her fists were clenched so tightly her nails were cutting into her palms. She could feel the little half moon crescents of pressure begin to sting. It was a distraction, a distraction from the urge to sprint over and wrap herself around him, to press herself into the material of his suit, to breathe in his unmistakable scent, to tug his head down to hers, and crush her mouth to his.   
  
The gap between them had closed somehow. If she stretched out, her fingertips would brush his arm.   
  
Her anger had vanished to be replaced by desperate need.   
  
He was her weakness, and she was his.   
  
She was terrified.  
  
But somehow, she reached for him, her hand tracing the line of his shoulders, the groove between his shoulder blades, following the curve of his spine, the spine that had shattered, but had been reformed. He didn't move, didn't react, merely let her fingers trail over his back, feeling, learning. She pressed her hand flat against his back, sliding it round his side, moving forward to wrap her arms around him.  
  
She froze.  
  
He felt her hesitate.   
  
The bulge under the jacket was unmistakable, she traced the outline of the holster, following the line of the straps up and over his shoulder.  
  
She flinched away from him.  
  
'Scared?' he mocked her.   
  
She shook her head defiantly. 'Of you? Hardly.'  
  
He moved so quickly she barely had time to gasp as his hand snaked out and caught her chin, yanking her face up.  
  
'You should be.'  
  
His thumb was caressing the line of her jaw, his eyes unreadable in the dim light. Despite her fear, she felt the urge to press up against him, but he seemed to sense it, he held her away from him.  
  
'Alec?'  
  
His mouth came roughly down on hers in a sudden, fierce kiss. His lips ground against hers, bruising her, their teeth clashed as he forced her lips apart. The fear that had been threatening her gave her strength and she fought against him, struggling, this was no kiss of welcome, there was no tenderness in it, he was staking his claim on her. Roughly he caught her lip between his teeth, and with a yelp of pain she jerked back, tasting blood.   
  
'What the hell are you doing?' she cried, running her fingers over her lip.  
  
He pulled her back towards him. 'Isn't it obvious? Isn't this what you wanted? Isn't this why you came to find me?'  
  
'No!' she protested, taken aback by the venom in his voice, 'I mean, yes, but... for Christ's sake, you hurt me!'  
  
He reached up and ran his thumb over her lower lip, seeing the bright red blood well up against the plump pink flesh. 'So I did.'  
  
'What the hell are you playing at?'  
  
'You still don't understand. After everything you still don't understand. There is more than us here...'  
  
'Explain it to me then! If I don't understand, then explain, because I can't understand if I don't know!'  
  
'No.'  
  
'Why not?'  
  
'Because there isn't time.'  
  
'For what? Until what? Why isn't there time?'  
  
'Get out of my way.'  
  
'No!'  
  
She didn't know why she had to stop him, but she threw her arms out, blocking his way.  
  
With almost no effort at all he practically threw her aside. She stumbled, and reached out a hand to the wall to catch her balance. With a nervous glance, she realised how high they were above the sea.   
  
Suddenly she realised.  
  
'You can't go.'  
  
'I have to.'  
  
'No! I won't let you!'  
  
'You have no choice.' He ran a shaking hand over his hair. 'You'll be safe here.'  
  
'Don't go...'  
  
Her voice trailed off; there was no point in arguing.  
  
She turned away. The water crashed against the cliffs far below them.  
  
There was a pause, and then she heard him walk away.   
  
A minute or two later, there was the sound of an engine and the squeal of tires as a car pulled away at some speed.   
  
'Alec?' she whispered into the dawn, some desperate hope still within her that he might be standing there.  
  
But when she turned she was alone. 


	45. Chapter Forty Three

He had been travelling for close to twelve hours. Exhaustion showed on his face, in the set of his body. Abandoning the car across the drive he stumbled towards the house. No lights shone in the windows, the dark night seemed to enclose around him.

The heat was stifling, hot and humid, moisture beading on his skin, his hair flattened to his head, shirt glued to his back.

It was times like this he longed for the sharp iciness of St. Petersburg.

He stumbled up the path, towards the garden, where he knew he could find shelter in the cool greenness. Tiny niches, lush trailing vines, it was a sanctuary against the airless night.

As he stalked through the narrow paths, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

'Who's there?' he hissed into the night.

'Who do you think?'

Dark eyes peered out from a small sheltered alcove.

'You're still here?' he snarled.

'No. I'm just a figment of your imagination.'

Ashleigh stepped from the darkness.

She had been there for three days. Three, long, frustrating days. Sheer stubbornness had refused to let her leave, despite the increasing dents to her pride. She had waited for him to come back, and why? To scream and shout at him? To take another swing at him?

'One more night,' she hissed. 'One more night and I wouldn't have been here.'

'Don't let me stand in your way of leaving.'

'I won't.'

'Then go. Just walk away. Like you should have done in the beginning.'

'And miss out on an opportunity like this? I quite enjoyed my few days of sun, sea and relaxation. A perfect break before I run back to England with my tail between my legs.'

He stood in the shadows, refusing to speak, refusing to answer her.

'I know when I'm not wanted, Alec. I'll be on a flight first thing in the morning.'

'If that's what you want.'

She stepped forward from the shadows. With a practised eye, Alec saw the dark circles under her eyes, her skin pale from lack of sleep. Anger tensed her body, her eyes were narrowed in a stubborn stare. Her bruised eye was a riot of colours, vivid greens and yellows fighting for precedence with the fading purples.

'You look like hell.'

'You're not so...' the insult trailed off as she finally saw his face. 'What happened to you? Who did this to you?'

If Ashleigh's face looked bad, then Alec's looked a thousand times worse. Bruising travelled from his temple to his jaw, a gash ran across the bridge of his nose, another travelled up and under his hairline.

From the way his shoulder was held, she had a horrible suspicion that it might be broken. Or at the least, cracked.

'It doesn't matter.' He tried to shrug, but the gesture caused a wince of pain to flicker across his face.

The anger left Ashleigh, carefully she ran her hand down his face, checking for swelling, and then her hands moved to his jacket. He swallowed a groan, but let her help him to remove it.

Blood had soaked through his shirt.

'You went to kill him.' It was a statement, not a question, quietly spoken.

He nodded. 'It was the final part of the assignment. His organisation was growing too dangerous, his ideas too radical. It wasn't easy. But it's over now.'

'M's pet assassin,' Ashleigh murmured bitterly.

The way he looked away made Ashleigh think she had hit close to the mark.

'We all have to kill sometimes. Even you.'

His green eyes were cold, and seemed to bore into her. 'And I hate doing it,' she hissed back, her fingers clenching involuntarily onto his shoulder.

'You killed Elliot and Deronda.'

'I had no choice,' she looked away. 'Lucinda would have killed me; it was kill, or die.' Her hand involuntarily clenched around her upper arm.

Gently he pried it away. He had noticed the scar before. 'She did this to you?'

'No one told me your ex lover liked playing with sharp knives.'

'But you killed her?'

'Knife to the throat.' She shuddered at the memory. 'There was so much blood.'

'Blood washes off.'

'But the memories stay.'

She had been almost clinically detached at the time, but she knew that the memories would always be there. In some small way, she was glad, it showed that she was at least human, she felt guilt when she killed, regretted the lives she had taken, and knew that she would pay for them at some point. Lucinda Elliot and Caleb Deronda had been willing to kill for their own advancement, for their own ambitions.

She hoped to God that Alec wasn't like that. That somewhere, deep within him, there was remorse.

'You're bleeding again,' she muttered, seeing the fresh blood sparkle in the dim light.

'I'll live.' He grabbed her hand. 'Why did you kill Elliot?'

'I told you, because I had to.'

'And Deronda?'

'James did. But I made sure he was dead.'

'Why?'

'Because you asked me to. Because I'd do anything for you.'

Her voice was barely above a whisper fading into the still air.

'Anything?'

It took all her courage, but she dragged her eyes up until they met his. There was hope deep within them. 'Anything.'

'Go home.'

'Home?'

'Back to England. You'll never be safe with me. You'll never truly know me. Your life will always be at risk as long as you are associated with me.'

'No.'

'Do as I say,' he snapped. 'I don't want you here.'

She blanched, but stood her ground. 'So I just forget you?'

'Yes.'

'And what will you do?'

'That's none of your business.'

The scorn chilled her voice. 'Of course not. How silly of me. I was rather under the impression that there was something between us, that something had happened in Russia. Of course, I could be mistaken, I did spend an awful lot of that time unconscious.'

He was silent once more.

'I didn't come here to be humiliated, Alec. I was rather under the impression that I was wanted.'

'You weren't meant to get hurt,' he sighed, ignoring her.

'Small comfort.'

He ran a finger down her arm, tracing the line of the scar, feeling the faint bumps where the stitches had held it closed, the tissue still healing two months on. She shivered, and pressed closer, realising what he was doing he snatched his hand away.

He wanted to take her in his arms.

He wanted to push her far away.

'We're a cliché, Ash. The ultimate cliché in our world. The master criminal, Janus, and the spy that loved him. You know what I did. You know that I would have stopped at nothing to succeed. I would have killed James. And if you had been there, I would have killed you. Without hesitation.'

'We all make mistakes.'

'A mistake? Hardly. A failure. If Goldeneye had succeeded I would have been the most powerful man in the world. In the end, it almost destroyed me.'

The anger was there, so close to the surface, ready to break into violence. She stepped back, wary of what might happen, but also watching carefully, taking everything. He had never spoken of the incident before, and she wanted to know more.

'You're Janus,' she said, touching each side of his face, the smooth, and the scarred. One face looking to the past, the other to the future. You have two sides, I've seen them both, and still I'm standing here. You proved that not even death can destroy you.'

'What a delightful sentiment,' he was cold and distant again. 'You wouldn't be the first woman to try and heal me, so please don't bother trying.'

'I wouldn't be so arrogant as to think I could heal someone like you,' Ashleigh spat, her own temper rising. This was getting beyond the point of ridiculous, the night was getting darker, they would probably still be standing there when the sun rose. 'I wouldn't fly half way around the world to deal with someone else's psychological issues.'

'Then why are you here? I won't be a father figure to you, Ash.'

The attack worked as well as if he'd hit her. She swore softly under her breath and jerked away.

Her father had always called her Ash, Alec had always known her as such whenever David had mentioned his daughter. It was habit to call her by her shortened name, but he used it now as a weapon, reminding her of the person he had once been, of his relationship with her father.

'Believe what you want,' she snapped, 'but this has nothing to do with my father.'

Viciously she snapped a leaf off a nearby vine, shredding it between shaking fingers.

The pain was increasing with every second that passed, but Alec refused to back down. His shoulder felt like it was on fire, his head ached, but still he stood here fighting with her.

'If you stay,' he said brusquely, 'You're in danger. You understand that, don't you?'

She bit back a sarcastic retort. 'Yes.'

He gestured to his jacket. 'For you.'

She raised an eyebrow quizzically, but fumbled with the jacket all the same. Inside she found a blood stained battered envelope.

'Assets, and documents,' Alec winced as he explored his damaged shoulders.

She flicked through the paperwork, a frown deepening as she read on.

'No.'

'No?' he looked up in surprise.

'What the hell is this? Is this what you think I want?' she flushed with anger.

'Call it life insurance,' Alec snapped. 'Too many people want me dead. If anything happens to me, then you'll be secure.'

'I don't want this,' she threw the envelope down.

'What do you want?' he was close to losing his temper.

'Assurance.' Ashleigh's tone was business like. 'I need to know that there isn't a bullet out there with my name on it.

'I can't guarantee that.'

'Try.'

She stared him down, her brown eyes unblinking, her face set with determination. Alec had a sudden feeling that he had bitten off more than he could chew with her.

'Fine.'

She blinked, surprised that he had backed down so easily. Suspiciously, she watched him.

It wouldn't be easy, it wouldn't be a bed of roses, but she was there, and he was there, and she relaxed at last, slumping back onto the wall.

'You had better let me look at that shoulder,' she finally said.

His skin was warm as she probed the damaged area, using the skills she had learnt at MI6 to diagnose the problem. 'What happened?'

'You don't want to know,' he leant in closer to her, letting himself rest gently on her, feeling her hair brush against his jaw, the scent of her perfume mingling with the smell of the night. Reluctantly he admitted to himself that he had missed her.

He wouldn't admit it to her though. He was already in way over his head, and knowing he was about to go even further, he slid his working arm around her, pain forgotten, and pressed his mouth to hers.

She wrapped herself around him, and feeling secure for the first time in her life, she let herself lose control.


	46. Epilogue

* * *

Epilogue.

Summer was approaching, and the heat was intensifying with every new day.

His study had darkened without him realising it, and it was only the first, distant rumble of thunder that dragged him from his work.

He had been sitting there too long, his back protested as he stood, the dull ache settling in the centre of his spine.

He knew where to find her; she was curled up in an armchair, reading in near darkness, hidden in the corner of the library.

She smiled up at him, a warm, welcoming smile, simple happiness that he had come to find her.

He smiled back, before removing his glasses. She teased him about them, calling them a sign of his age, and ruefully he realised she might be right.

The thunder rumbled once more, louder this time and she jumped.

'Another storm?' she asked.

He opened the glass doors to the terrace, watching the dark clouds settling on the horizon. 'A large one.'

She slid past him, onto the terrace, her bare feet padding across the stones until she came to the wall, staring out at the clouds.

A fork of lightning flickered in the distance, the storm clouds were moving closer, travelling with unnatural speed. Drops of rain began to fall.

She jumped as he wrapped his arms around her. 'Don't you trust me?' he mocked gently. She was still nervous of him at times, still unsure, and never more so when they were in close proximity to this wall. The sea far below them churned and crashed against the edge of the cliff, the usual brilliant turquoise darkened to a violent navy, reminding them how much power the sea had.

She leant back against him, the top of her head barely reaching his chin, and when she spoke he could hear the smile in it. 'Not at all.'

He laughed, and she strained to hear him over the crash of the thunder. 'Trust is such an overrated idea.'

Perhaps it was, Ashleigh thought, as she felt Alec's lips brush her hair, and she may not trust him, but when she thought about it, she wasn't sure that it really mattered.

They had fallen comfortably into their new lives, finding it surprisingly easy to share their space, finding a strange form of happiness.

Yet somehow, they still didn't know each other.

Alec had a suspicious feeling that he could give her mountains, and still she'd ask for the sea.

Perhaps that's why they were so suited.

His arms tightened around her, and she let him hold her, relaxing back into his arms, feeling his strength surround her, giving herself to him.

The storm raged around them, and still they stood, watching, as the rain fell down upon them.

Fin.

* * *

A/N: And so it ends. Thank you to all my readers, thank you for all the reviews, I never expected the story to be so popular, but I'm so glad that you all enjoyed it.

I'm devastated that its complete, and though I'm fighting it, I don't think it's the end for Alec and Ashleigh.

In particular I'd like to thank three reviewers – Io, previously Siobhan5, your help made this story what it was, and took it in a way I had never imagined. I can never thank you enough – and I hope that you'll remain in contact, Alec is such a delicious subject to discuss.

Daughter of Olorin - your reviews were always a joy to read, and always left me hyper for the rest of the day. They made me think, and made me reconsider my work – constructive criticism is the writer's drug and yours was superb. Many thanks.

Adri Skywalker – well, what can I say? Enthusiastic about the story? Oh yes. You have made me smile so much, made me giggle, and your emails are always welcomed. Your undying belief in Alec and Ashleigh's relationship has always been true – and best of luck with the fanlisting.

This has been a labour of love – my nervousness at first posting it was awful – but thankfully its been welcomed. All I can keep saying is thank you, so I'll end this on that note.

Thank you.

PS – the line 'Alec had a suspicious feeling that he could give her mountains, and still she'd ask for the sea,' is based on the song 'Volcano' by Damien Rice. The actual line is '_But give me miles and miles of mountains and I'd ask for the sea_'. It's a song that I've been listening to non stop while writing these final few chapters, and is well worth a listen - it can be found on his website (www)damienrice(dot)com

alley.


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